Bright Lights at Night
by nikkithedead
Summary: AU. After a broken-down Kurt Hummel drops out of NYU, he moves in with his new boyfriend Blaine, hoping to start over. But when Blaine can't get the rent money Kurt finds himself selling the only thing he has left—himself.
1. Chapter 1

**Bright Lights at Night**

Chapter 1:

When Kurt Hummel moved to New York, he had big dreams. He was going to live in a fabulous apartment, and go to a top-tier school that would help him get onto Broadway where he would become a big, big star. He went against his families wishes—his Dad didn't like the idea of his skinny son living all alone in a big, scary city—but he knew it was the right thing to do. His father just didn't understand that this was something he _had _to do.

His father had actually been so against this decision that he'd refused to put out the tuition money. If Kurt wanted to go against his wishes then he was on his own.

But Burt had never expected Kurt to actually_ do_ it. He'd thought it would make him stop, slow down. Consider. They would talk, maybe come up with some sort of compromise. Kurt could spend a year at home, maybe they could take some trips together as a family before he went away...and then after, well he'd be a year older and maybe Burt would feel better about him going off on his own.

He'd thought they'd be able to work it out... then one morning he'd gone down to find a note on the kitchen table... and Kurt was gone. He'd gotten some scholarship, and he would call him when he got there.

It had hurt Kurt to leave his father like that, but in his heart Kurt knew it was the right thing. He was 18 years old, an adult. It was time he started acting like one.

New York was stunning—a fabulous, beautiful city that truly never did seem to sleep. It was alive, all around him and he was thrilled to be there. Mostly. He'd always heard New York was an expensive place to live, but when he actually began apartment hunting it was still a shock. The only thing he could afford was a rat-infested hole in the wall in what he had to assume was a part of town that the bad part of town wouldn't walk through alone at night.

Even with his scholarship, Kurt still had to work three jobs to afford tuition, rent, text books and items such as food and bottled water (he would _not _drink the stuff that was running—nay, _leaking_ from his tap. Not even to brush his teeth).

Kurt spent most of the time he wasn't in school waiting tables in a filthy diner not far from his apartment, learning to balance trays of bitter coffee in one hand, and pick up dirty plates with the other. Broken plates came out of his tips.

Weekday nights he worked in a call centre, trying to convince tired middle class citizens around the country that yes they _did _need to reevaluate their insurance plan.

On the weekends he picked up whatever hours he could working for a catering company with about 30 other tired students, each fighting to be able to serve at the high class events with the good food. As far as jobs went, this one wasn't too bad. The nights were long and tiring but at least the tap water ran clear.

It wasn't ideal, not at all... but he told himself that in the end it would be worth it. He was taking classes on acting, singing and performing and when he was elbow deep in dirty dish water, scrubbing bacon grease off rusted griddles, he told himself to just think of it as though he was playing a part. This was all part of his grand performance.

At school they taught them that you didn't always get the parts you wanted to play, but you did what you had to do because in the end it would be worth it. Because in the end, he was going to be a big, big star.

If he just thought of it like that, it all stopped seeming so terrible. It was no longer pathetic and disgusting, but tragic and poetic. These were the obstacles his character had to over-come, the ones that would make it all the more rewarding when he finally came out on top and got his happily every after.

If ever he had a free hour or so to spare, between or around he classes, he spent it sleeping. Usually on a park bench on the schools grounds.

It was on this park bench that Kurt would first come to meet Blaine Anderson.

* * *

Once again he'd fallen asleep on his bench, sitting up with his head lolling tiredly against his chest. This was usual, he tended to do this everyday. However, today when he woke up, his head was leaning against someone else's shoulder. With a startled jerk he sprang up, his face bright red. "Oh god, I'm so sorry," He blustered.

The person he'd been leaning on, an attractive guy that looked about his age, smiled. He had curly hair and soft hazel eyes that looked fondly at Kurt. "It's alright, I didn't mind." He said.

"No—I shouldn't—I mean I didn't realize—god I'm _so _sorry."

The guy laughed. "Look, really it's fine. I'm Blaine." He said, extending his hand.

"Kurt." He replied, taking Blaine's hand.

Blaine grinned. "It's nice to meet you, Kurt. Do you want to get some coffee?" Kurt blinked in surprise, and Blaine laughed again. "You just seem really tired, is all. And I thought you could use someone to talk to." He said, giving him a knowing look.

Kurt sighed. "More like I need someone to gripe to."

"Well I'm good for that too. Talk, gripe, bitch, whine—you name it. _And _I'll buy you coffee."

Kurt's heart fluttered a bit. He hadn't had coffee from some sort of actual cafe for months, just the shitty stuff he made at his apartment and pilfered from the diner. "Alright."

They went for coffee, and Kurt spent the next hour telling Blaine all about his awful apartment, and his awful jobs and how awful he felt all the time. He couldn't concentrate on his classes because he was so exhausted and stressed. He never had time or energy to do the readings. He was miserable, truly and utterly miserable. Nothing was like he thought it would be. He was tired and alone and his last nerve was wearing thin.

When he was finished, he expected Blaine to tell him to suck it up. To tell him to persevere and get through it and in the end he would be a better person. He expected him to tell him that this is just what it takes and he needed to push through and push all the awful feelings down and away.

But Blaine just looked at him, his soft eyes full of concern. "Maybe you should rethink what you're doing then." He said gently.

"What?" Kurt asked, shocked.

"Well, if you're miserable I mean, is this all worth it? You're only young once, is this really how you want to spend it, working a million jobs and stretching yourself so thin I can almost see through you?"

"I—well, I don't know. What else am I supposed to do?"

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know. But if you're not happy, it doesn't have to be this."

Over the next few months, Kurt saw Blaine as much as he could. They would get coffee between Kurt's classes, or sit on his bench and talk. Blaine was always sympathetic to his problems, and he never made him feel like he was complaining too much.

The first time Blaine kissed him, it was on the bench where they'd first met. Kurt thought he could feel that kiss all the way down to his toes.

Sometime during his busy, exhausting schedule, Kurt found time to lose his virginity to Blaine. It happened at Blaine's apartment, which he was shocked to find was really, _really _nice. Well, he supposed it was really, _really _nice in comparison to the abandoned crack-den he lived in. Though by normal standards, it was still very decent. It had two bedrooms, and a sweet little nook for a kitchen. He'd only been there for about two hours when he'd begun imagining himself living there, making love to Blaine over and over, and making dinner in his nice little kitchen.

But that wasn't his life, and he'd soon left Blaine's apartment to go back to reality, where everything was difficult and tiring, and dinner was cooked on a hot-plate or in a fritzing microwave.

At the end of the semester, with Blaine's reassurances that it was the right thing to do, Kurt dropped out of school. He couldn't do it anymore. And his jobs left him so exhausted that even when he was in class, he wasn't really learning. So what was the point?

Being out of school meant the bulk of his financial burden was gone, and he was able to quit two of his jobs, and take up a full time position at the diner.

He began spending even more and more time with Blaine, and quickly falling in love with him. He was sweet and charming, and the way he held Kurt in his arms made him feel like he loved him too. He was the perfect boyfriend, always attentive and caring.

Things still weren't perfect, since he had to live in his own terrible little crack in the wall and work at an awful job with a sweaty boss that breathed down his neck while he took inventory. He suspected his boss was also an alcoholic, and his suspicions were confirmed one afternoon when he made a drunken pass at him.

His boss attempted to pin him against the counter, mumbling something about Kurt being pretty like a girl. Highly disturbed, Kurt pushed the man off of him and tried to get away, but his boss grabbed him again and tried to push his slobbering mouth against his neck. The feel of it was so disgusting Kurt didn't even hesitate before curling his hand into a fist and sending his fat boss backwards with a punch to the nose.

His boss fired him then, coughing the words out through a bloody nose. Kurt turned on his heel and stormed out, hopping on a subway and going immediately to Blaine's house, where he collapsed in his boyfriends comforting arms. It was only then that he realized what he'd done.

"Oh god..." He whispered, as Blaine handed him a cup of tea. He put his arm over Kurt's shoulders, listening attentively. "Oh god I got _fired_!"

"Hey, it wasn't your fault." Blaine said. "What were you supposed to do, let him molest you? You did the right thing Kurt."

"I know... but I got _fired!_" Kurt repeated, beginning to panic. "How—how am I supposed to pay rent? How am I supposed to afford _food? _Oh god, I'm going to have to go back and maybe if I beg he'll—"

"No." Blaine said firmly. He took Kurt's hands and looked him in the eye. "I am _not _going to let you go back to a place with a boss like that. He could have seriously hurt you, Kurt."

"But what am I supposed to do? People don't just hand out jobs—especially when your last reference is going to say you're a nut who punched him in the nose."

"Move in with me." Blaine said, that warm and caring look back in his eye. "I'll take care of the rent. I'll take care of _you_."

Kurt's breath got caught in his throat. "What? But—I can't do that, Blaine. I can't just let you pay for everything. I'm not a freeloader."

Blaine smiled. "No, you're not. You're my boyfriend and I love you. I want you to be safe, and happy. Please Kurt, I know you love it here. Please move in with me."

Kurt bit his lip. "Oh. I love you too, Blaine."

Blaine smiled. "Is that a yes?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Kurt moved out of his shit-den apartment within the month, and in with Blaine. The move was easy; he hadn't taken much stuff from home when he'd left, and he'd hardly bought anything since he'd arrived. He gave his hotplate away to the homeless man who lived outside his building.

Living with Blaine was just like he'd thought it would be—perfect. They made love for hours, and lay in bed together for hours more after. They took turns making the meals, and they cleaned up the dishes together. They took long walks around the city, looking at its beautiful scenery and admiring it in a way that Kurt had never had time to before. They walked hand in hand, pausing every now and then for Blaine to take his face gently in his hands and kiss him slowly, telling him how much he loved him. And Kurt would wrap his arms around Blaine's neck and tilt his head to the side, kissing him back. "I love you too." He'd whisper, feeling a tingle every time he said it. Being in love was exciting and wonderful.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect...until one morning, Kurt woke up and found Blaine sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.

"Blaine, what's wrong?" Kurt asked, taking a seat next to his boyfriend. He put his hand on his back, rubbing soothingly.

Blaine looked up at him, obviously upset. "I—I'm so sorry, Kurt. I messed up. I couldn't get the rent for this month." He looked like he was about to cry. "And now it's due in two days, and I've got _nothing _and no time to get it. God, why do I always do this? I never save up like I should and I put myself in this stupid position and—"

"Blaine, it's ok." Kurt said, trying to calm him down. "We'll figure something out. I'll help you."

"You will?"

Kurt nodded. "Of course, Blaine. Whatever it takes. You always take care of me, it's not fair that you should have to get the rent on your own."

Blaine's eyes went wide with gratitude. "Oh god thank you Kurt!" He said, throwing his arms around him. "I love you so much."

Kurt smiled. "I love you too."

The next day, Blaine brought in a man whom he introduced as "Jeremy." Jeremy nodded nervously at Kurt, before Blaine instructed him to wait in their bedroom.

Kurt raised his eyebrows, wondering what was going on. He looked at Blaine. "Who's he?"

Blaine bit his lip. "He's...he's going to give us the money for rent."

"Oh? That's excellent" Kurt said excitedly. "What's he want?"

Blaine continued to chew on his lip, giving him a look that was partly nervous and partly apologetic. "Um, well..._you._" He said quietly.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, again. Long time no-me-writing-things. Well, on here anyways. I've had this story around for a while, and I've put off publishing it for weeks because I stopped liking everything I'd written. But I figured someone else might like it, so I went ahead and published it anyways. I'll probably put up part two tomorrow, or maybe even later tonight. **

**This is a Kum story, NOT a Klaine story, no matter what it seems like now. Trust me. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

"...What?"

Blaine cringed. "He wants you. And he'll pay us for it."

Kurt didn't understand. "What do you mean he wants me? Wants me for _what?_"

Blaine looked at him, and Kurt couldn't believe it. It felt like he'd been slapped. "Are you freaking kidding me?" He hissed. He crossed his arms. "No, no way. That's—that's _insane._"

Blaine grabbed his wrist. "Please, Kurt?" He begged. "We need the money, and you said you'd help me—"

"Not like this!" Kurt cried.

"There's no other way." Blaine insisted. "Please?"

"Blaine...I'm your _boyfriend._ How could you want me to do this? I-I love you." He said quietly.

"I know, and I love you! But this is the only way. And...it's not a huge deal, Kurt. It's just sex. It doesn't mean anything."

Kurt shook his head, still not believing what he was hearing. He snatched his wrist away from Blaine and grabbed his jacket from the closet. "This is insane." He repeated, wrenching open the door. He took a step to leave, but Blaine grabbed his arm.

"Kurt, you've got no where to go." He said, speaking to Kurt's back as he stood in the doorway. "You've got no money. You need me."

His shoulders squared, and he felt tears form in his eyes. He felt Blaine's grip on him loosen, and he shook a bit. "Please, just do this for us. I've done so much for you. I've taken care of you. I love you."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, sending tears crashing down his cheeks. "There has to be some other way—"

"There isn't." Blaine said softly. "It won't be so bad, I promise. I love you, Kurt. You know I wouldn't ask you to do this if there was any other way."

Kurt swallowed, and bowed his head. This was crazy_—insane. _It couldn't be happening. Blaine couldn't have been asking him to—to—

It just couldn't be happening.

Kurt looked back at Blaine over his shoulder. _"_I'm scared." He whispered.

Slowly, Blaine pulled him back into the apartment and turned him around. "Don't be. I'll be here the entire time. You'll be fine. You know I'd never let anyone hurt you. I love you, so much."

Kurt nodded, blinking away the tears in his eyes. "I love you too."

Blaine took his jacket off him, and kissed him on his forehead and Kurt turned towards their bedroom door. Kurt's heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt dizzy, but he let the firmness of Blaine's hands reassure him. He could do this, he could. He would get through it the same way he'd gotten through all those dirty, disgusting dishes at the diner with the greasy, drunken boss who'd stunk of sweat and gin.

He would play the part.

It wouldn't be Kurt Hummel who would do this, just as Kurt Hummel had never scrubbed a single dirty dish, or lived in a rat infested closet, or done any of the other terrible disgusting things he'd told himself he needed to do.

It was just an act, all just an act.

With Blaine's hands on his shoulder, Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders, Kurt allowed himself to be guided into their bedroom."Sorry Jeremy," Blaine said. "He's just nervous. It's his first time."

Jeremy looked surprised. "Oh. Wow."

Kurt nodded, trying to push away the sick feeling in his gut. He tried to get into character, but he could barely admit the kind of character he would have to be playing.

"Alright, you have an hour." Blaine said. He smiled, patted Kurt on the shoulder once more, and left.

Kurt gulped, and looked at the man in front of him. He looked about in his late 20's, early 30's...he had light brown hair and bit of a stubble on his face, which Kurt supposed was pleasant looking enough. But he was a stranger.

Jeremy looked him over apprehensively, and Kurt's eyes darted to the floor, desperate to avoid looking at the man in front of him. "Um, we don't have to do this, if you're scared." Jeremy said quietly.

Kurt's heart leapt for a moment. He wanted to take the out and run. But he knew he couldn't... they needed the money. Blaine was counting on him. He shook his head. "N-no... I... we should." He said, his voice shaking.

Jeremy bit his lip, and took a step closer. He put his hand on Kurt's elbow, and looked him hard in the eye. "Hey, are you alright?" He whispered. "I mean... you're not here against your will are you? You're not being forced?"

Kurt smiled at his concern, and shook his head. "No, I'm not being forced. I—really, I'm just nervous. I've never done this before, and... I'm not really sure what to do." He laughed nervously. "Everything I know about... about _this, _I learned from movies like Pretty Woman, and Mighty Aphrodite."

Jeremy gave him a kind smile. "Well, I'll do my best to help you then, because I _have _done this before." He turned and gestured to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it. "Most people like to talk a bit first, you know, get comfortable." He said. Kurt nodded, and took a seat next to him.

Kurt was actually a bit surprised to hear that this was something he did regularly. "Why though? I mean, you're nice looking. Why do you need—"

"To pay for sex?" Jeremy finished.

Kurt nodded, and then his face turned red. "Oh god, I shouldn't have asked that, right? That's offensive or something, isn't it?"

To his relief, Jeremy laughed, and lay back on the bed. He propped himself up on his forearms, and smiled at Kurt. "Yeah, most people probably won't want to have to explain themselves to you, but I don't mind. Truthfully, I'm just really awful at relationships. My job keeps me busy, and I don't have the time to put into working at something healthy and stable. And I'm not the type of guy that can just go out to a bar and hook-up, I don't have the finesse or the charisma or whatever." He shrugged.

Kurt nodded, and tentatively lay down across from Jeremy. "That makes sense. So... so how often do you do this?"

Jeremy considered. "Well, it varies. Sometimes I won't do it for months, but there are other times when I'm trying to find someone every other week." He smiled. "I like to change up the person I'm seeing as much as possible, you know? I mean, I don't really think I'm the type of person this would happen to, but you hear horror stories about guys that see the same person for a long time, and they get to start thinking that they're Richard Greer from Pretty Woman."

Kurt tilted his head to the side. "What's wrong with that?" He asked quietly. He thought that sounded romantic.

"What's wrong with it is the person they're seeing _isn't _Julia Roberts." He said. "I mean, I'm strictly speaking about the higher class of prostitutes here," Kurt's stomach churned at the word. Prostitute. He swallowed, and tried to concentrate on what Jeremy was saying. He needed to listen... that's what his character would do, he thought. He needed to be that character...the one who could handle this. "—But these men and women aren'tlooking to be saved. Usually this is something they've _chosen _to do, because they can make good money, and to a certain extent they enjoy it. They're not looking for a way out, and they're definitely not looking to fall in love. So where does that leave Richard?"

Kurt frowned. "Standing on a fire escape, with no princess to rescue."

Jeremy smiled. "And no money left, either." He said.

"How could you ever fall in love with someone who would never love you back?" Kurt asked.

Jeremy's eyes ran over Kurt's face, and he smiled again. "Oh, I think it could be easy." He said quietly, leaning in. He brushed his finger over Kurt's cheekbone as he closed the space between their lips and gave Kurt a soft kiss. Kurt hesitated for a moment, the unfamiliar feeling of a strangers lips dazing him. Slowly, he lifted his hand up and let it rest against Jeremy's chest, and began kissing him back.

Afterwards, once Jeremy had left, Kurt lay in their bed and cried. No matter how nice Jeremy had been, and how good he'd been to him, the fact remained that he'd just had sex for money. Kurt Hummel, aspiring broadway star and NYU dropout had just let himself get fucked so he could pay his rent.

Not even the sweaty hands on his fat former boss had been able to make him feel this dirty.

He heard the door open, and Blaine came in and wrapped his arms around him, murmuring that it would be all right. He would take care of him.

Kurt let Blaine comfort him, his tears ceasing as Blaine told him how much he loved him, and how proud he was of him. Kurt kept waiting for Blaine to tell him he'd never have to do it again... but Blaine never said that.

* * *

A week later, Blaine brought in another man. He began to introduce him, but Kurt didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to know this guys name, and he didn't want anything to do with him.

"No, no fucking way Blaine!" Kurt screamed. "I will _not!_"

"Yes, you will." Blaine steeled. "We need to save up some money, and this is the best way to do it."

"Fuck you!"

"Keep it down!" Blaine hissed, his eyes darting to the door to their bedroom where the man was waiting. "He'll hear you."

"SO? So what?" He shouted. "I don't give a—"

Blaine's hand snapped forward, smacking him smartly across his cheek. He gasped, touching his cheek gingerly and staring at Blaine, shocked.

"Kurt, you need to do this." Blaine said quietly. "For us. It wasn't so bad last time, and it won't be so bad this time. Please?"

Kurt ground his teeth, and without saying anything further, stomped into the bedroom. The man had been sitting on the bed, and he stood up when Kurt came in and slammed the door behind him.

"Hi, I'm—" The man began.

"Save it." Kurt muttered, pushing him back on the bed. "You want to f-fuck me or not?"

The man nodded, and Kurt leaned in and pressed his lips against him. It was easier this time, because he was angry. He let the anger push him through the beginning, push him right through undressing and foreplay and stretching. The anger made it easier, made all of it go by as though it was some surreal, out of body experience.

Unfortunately, the anger couldn't last forever. It got him up right to lying on his stomach once again being ploughed by a stranger before it gave way, and Kurt was hit by the familiar feeling of emptiness and disgust.

The emptiness and self hatred lasted even after the man was gone, and Kurt was lying in bed, thinking about getting dressed and going for a walk, just to avoid seeing Blaine.

The door opened, and Blaine came in again. "I'm sorry about hitting you." He said quietly, taking a seat on the end of the bed. "I didn't want to you, I just..."

Kurt swallowed, hearing Blaine break off. He felt a guilty pit in his chest, and he crawled over and wrapped his arms around him. "Hey, it's alright." He whispered, kissing Blaine on the cheek. "I'm sorry I was acting so awfully."

Blaine gave him a small smile. "It's not so bad, right?"

Kurt gave him a shaky smile in return, glad that he'd taken acting lessons in school. "No... it's not."

Blaine leaned in and kissed him, pulling him into his arms. "I love you, Kurt. So much."

Kurt rested his head against Blaine's shoulder, the emptiness and the hate disappearing now that he was back in his boyfriends arms. "I love you too."

* * *

Things settled into an uneasy routine after that. With every "customer" he saw, Kurt found it became easier and easier to become the character he needed to be.

When Kurt was with a customer, he wasn't _really_ having sex for money, he was developing his character. He was researching. He was performing his role in a grand production. You didn't always get the parts you wanted to play, but you did what you had to do because in the end it would be worth it. Because in the end, he was going to be a big, big star.

It made it easier, if he thought about it like that. If he didn't, he wasn't sure he would have been able to manage half the things he needed to do. Playing a part allowed him to do things that he, Kurt Hummel, never would have done in a million years. Things that would have disgusted and disturbed him.

At first, Kurt was only seeing one customer a week, but it wasn't long before Blaine increased that number to two or three. Kurt didn't let it bother him, he just told himself it meant he had more opportunities to work on his part. Develop his character, grow comfortable with him, learn who he was. It was important, being able to play the part as best as he could.

He played the part, the part of a character who could get down on his knees and take a strangers plastic-wrapped dick in his mouth and suck on it. His character didn't cry when strangers fingers pushed and poked inside him, preparing him to get fucked. His character was not him, he was someone else completely, someone who knew what they were doing. Someone experienced, and coy, who could flirt with their customers and charm them into coming back for more later.

Kurt could play his part, and when it was over he could be himself again. A separate entity who hadn't experienced anything the character he'd been playing had. After all, it had all just been an act. He wasn't prostitute, he was just playing one.

Unfortunately, when he was through with a customer, it always took Kurt a few moments to separate himself from his character. For those few moments, he found himself in a strange place where he was still half the person he was playing, and half himself. The two were together inside him, and their meeting made the world around him go completely still. Nothing outside existed anymore, there were only the two worlds inside him, and the people that lived in them. These worlds, these two parts of himself—now they existed together, just for a moment.

In that moment, they screamed. The world outside was quiet, but Kurt was deafened by the noise in his head. For those few moments, those two worlds fit together inside him and he couldn't tell which was which and who was who anymore. Kurt Hummel and the Prostitute, they were one in the same.

It was no wonder they screamed like they did.

It always passed quickly, the two halves untangling themselves and going their separate ways; the Prostitute going to rest up for his next customer, and Kurt going to do chores around the apartment, waiting for his boyfriend to come home.

When he wasn't acting, when he was just Kurt again, he spent all his time with his boyfriend. He and Blaine spent every free moment together, going out shopping (something Kurt had almost forgotten he loved to do) or walking around the parks. They didn't spend as much time in bed anymore, which was fine with Kurt. He enjoyed making love with Blaine, of course, but now he just didn't feel like it much of the time, and Blaine seemed to understand that. However, Kurt did miss the hours they'd spent cuddling.

Time passed, and eventually it became so that Kurt was seeing two or three customers a day. Kurt wouldn't have minded, he was used to it now, but as he began to see more customers, he found Blaine was around less and less. It used to be that Blaine would bring in each customer, and instruct him to wait in the bedroom. Afterwards he would deal with the money.

Now Kurt was receiving the customers himself, while Blaine was gone all day. He was instructed to get the money before hand, always.

While he liked that Blaine obviously trusted him enough to handle these things himself, he missed his boyfriend. On days when he didn't have any customers, Kurt was now left to wander around by himself. Blaine gave him money for shopping and such, but it wasn't as much fun by himself.

One night, while they ate dinner together at the island in Blaine's nice little kitchen, Kurt decided to approach the subject. "Blaine, where do you go everyday?"

Blaine looked surprised that he was asking. "Oh...well, different places. I have a few...jobs. Different places in the city...the hours aren't stable though, so I'm never sure when I'll be working or where."

"What kind of jobs?"

Blaine furrowed his brow. "Why are you suddenly so interested?" He asked, smiling in a way that let Kurt know he was about to try and change the subject. "It's boring stuff, nothing you want to hear about. Tell me, what were you doing all day?"

Kurt shrugged. "I went to one of those street markets and looked around a bit, but I don't know–"

"Aw, you love those! Don't tell me you couldn't find anything?" Kurt shrugged again, and Blaine looked concerned. "Kurt, are you alright? I mean... is it because I've been gone so much?"

Kurt opened his mouth to say no, no of course it wasn't. He was fine, really... but then he decided "to heck with it." Blaine was his boyfriend... if he wanted to complain, he was going to. "Well...yes, actually. I miss you." He pouted.

Blaine sighed, and took Kurt's hand in his. "I know, I miss you too. I'm just really trying to get organized here... you know, save up for our future—" Kurt's heart began beating a bit faster at that, and he missed a bit of what Blaine was saying. He was saving up for their future. _Their _future. Their future _together._ "—I just want things to be good for you, you know? I love you."

Kurt nodded. "I know, I love you too. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel bad."

Blaine shook his head. "No, no you're right. You're working hard all week, and I should be here more often. And I will, I promise. I just have a few things I need to sort out. Give me a little longer, alright?"

Kurt nodded. "Of course, anything."

They cleaned up their plates, and Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck and kissed him into the bedroom.

After they made love, and long after Blaine had fallen asleep, Kurt stayed awake, enjoying the feeling of his boyfriends arms around him.

Blaine was still very absent over the next few weeks, but at the end of the month Kurt finally found out what he'd been doing all that time he was away... and his name was Sam.

* * *

**A/N: Both chapters one and two felt like an introduction to me, so I thought it would be good to upload them sort of together. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

When Blaine had first walked in with the smiling blond, Kurt had assumed he was another customer. But then, customers didn't usually bring their guitars with them... or their suitcases.

"Uh, Kurt." Blaine said, hands clamped over the blondes shoulders. "Sam's going to be living with us."

"Hey, s'good to meet you." Sam said cheerfully, reaching forward to shake Kurt's hand.

Kurt stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, and then looked at Blaine. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" He said, one eyebrow arched dangerously. Looking sheepish, Blaine followed him into their bedroom.

"What the hell, Blaine?" Kurt demanded, closing the door behind him.

"Kurt, it's not what you think."

"Oh, it's not? Then what's that twink doing in my living room?"

Blaine bit his lip. "Alright, it's not _why _you think."

"What the _fuck _does that mean?" Kurt asked, trying to keep his voice at a normal volume.

"I can explain, I swear." Blaine hurried. "I brought Sam here to help out—help _you_. So you won't have to work so hard."

Kurt folded his arms skeptically. "Does he know that?"

"Not yet... that's sort of something I need to talk to you about, actually."

Blaine led Kurt over to the bed, and they both took a seat on the edge of it. "I need you to sleep in the other bedroom for a while." He said. Kurt's mouth opened a bit, and Blaine rushed forward before Kurt cut him off. "It's just, it's a delicate situation right now, you know? Sam can't know that we're together."

Kurt looked at him. This must be why he'd cleaned out the spare room the week before... put new sheets and blankets on the bed... he was turning it into _Kurt's _room... so he could share _this _one with Sam. "I-I don't even know what to say."

"You say 'alright Blaine, since I know you love me and only want the best for me, even if you're sometimes a big jerk face, I'm going to be mad at you for a while but eventually forgive you, because I love you too.'" Blaine said, smiling hopefully.

Kurt smiled back, just a little. "Only a big jerk face _sometimes?_"

Blaine laughed, and kissed him. "I swear to you," He whispered, brushing his lips over Kurt's. "You are the only one I care about. Sam is nothing. _You're _the one I love, just you."

Kurt nodded. "I know." He said quietly. "I love you too."

Even though he knew that Blaine loved him, and that what he was doing with Sam was just a ruse, it still hurt to see them together. They sat cuddling on the couch, giggling and kissing and being awful. Kurt just sat on the couch across from him, flipping through a magazine and glaring at them.

At night, he could hear them together, making love... It was awful. Sam was freakin' _loud._ Who moaned that loudly? No one. It drove Kurt crazy.

Kurt hated him. Despised him. He hated his obviously dyed hair, he hated his sunny smile and he hated his wide, innocent eyes. He couldn't stand the way Blaine touched him—lightly, lovingly...like...like...

_Like he used to touch me. _

Despite his promise to be home more often, after about a month and a half with Sam, Blaine had resumed his usual tendency to be out all day, leaving Sam and Kurt alone together. Kurt spent most of this time ignoring Sam as loudly as possible. The rest of the time, he was with a customer.

Currently, he was receiving a customer who went by the name Hal. Hal wasn't exactly a regular, but Kurt'd seen him several times before, and was fairly fond of him. The man was older, at least in his 50's, but he was very sweet and gentle, especially for someone as tall and broad as he was. When Hal smiled, his eyes crinkled up a bit and it always made Kurt feel warm.

Kurt led Hal into his bedroom, past Sam on the couch.

"Who's the blond?" Hal asked, once the door was closed. He took a seat on the edge of Kurt's bed, bouncing a little to test it out.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "New guy."

Hal nodded. "Oh. Huh."

Kurt looked at Hal, and felt a bolt of anger and possibly jealousy go through him. "Don't you get that look on your face."

Hal blinked at him innocently. "What look?"

"That 'maybe next time I'll try out the blond' look." Kurt said. He slid into Hal's lap and wrapped his arms over Hal's broad shoulders.

Hal grinned at him, brushing a large hand over Kurt's cheek. "You hate him." He said, amused.

Kurt pursed his lips. "It's not that I hate him, it's just that I resent the hell out of him and want to put a fish hook through his mouth."

Hal laughed, as though Kurt had said something adorable, and Kurt grinned. "At least let me prove something to you, before you go casting me aside for this months model." He whispered, pressing his lips to Hals ear.

Hal shuddered a bit, letting his hands slide down Kurt's back and settle on his hips. "Whaddya wanna prove?"

Kurt grinned, and put his hands inside Hal's jacket, pushing it down his arms. "That while blondes might have more fun, they're certainly not more fun to have."

After he was finished with Hal, he went back to the living room, where Sam had his guitar set up on his knee. Trying very hard to _not _make a crack about how surprised he was to find that the guitar wasn't just for show, Kurt picked up the magazine he'd been reading before and sat back down on the couch.

Kurt attempted to ignore the music, which had been light and quiet when he'd come in, but it had sped up now, and after a few minutes Sam began to sing quietly.

_"These walls are paper thin, and everyone hears every little sound,"_

Kurt's mouth twitched a bit and he looked up at Sam over his magazine, and saw that he had a small smirk on his face. Kurt glared.

"_Everyone's a voyeurist, they're watching me, watch them, watch me... right now."_

Kurt put his magazine down and arched his eyebrows. _"What _are you singing?_"_

Sam paused with his hand on the guitar, and looked up innocently. "Modest Mouse."

"Modest _what?_"

Sam grinned cockily. "Mouse. Modest Mouse. They're an indie band... you don't know them?"

"No, I don't." Kurt sneered.

Sam shrugged, and went back to playing. Kurt continued to stare at him, annoyed.

"Do you _have _to do that?"

Sam's shoulders squared, and he paused again and looked up at Kurt. "What is your _problem, _dude? What have I ever done to you?"

Kurt scoffed in disbelief. "Are you _kidding?_ You've—god, you've like...you come in here, and you just—" He shook his head, frustrated. "Honestly."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Right, yeah sure." He mumbled. He resumed playing, and Kurt stood up and stalked towards his room. As he reached the door, Sam changed the tune he was playing, to something quicker.

"_Take a little more, little more, little more._" Sam sang casually. "_They slap you like a bitch and you take it like a whore._"

Kurt froze in the doorway, and glanced back at Sam, who was strumming non-nonchalantly. He gritted his teeth, and disappeared inside his room.

That night before dinner, when Sam disappeared into his bedroom for a few minutes, Kurt launched himself at Blaine. He pushed him against the counter, shoving their mouths together.

"Woah, hey what's this?" Blaine mumbled, letting Kurt kiss him for a moment. Then he put his hands gently on Kurt's hips, pushing him back a bit.

"Just reminding you whose boyfriend you _really _are." He said, running his hands over Blaine's chest.

Blaine grinned. "I haven't forgotten." He pulled Kurt back towards him, resuming their kiss. Kurt smirked against Blaine's lips. They broke the kiss quickly, not wanting to get caught, but Kurt couldn't make himself move away from Blaine.

Kurt swallowed a little, and looked at him. "Um, Blaine?" He began. "Sam doesn't... I mean, you haven't told him about me, have you? About... about what I do?"

Blaine looked surprised. "No, of course not. Why?"

Kurt shrugged. "Just something he said. Well, something he sang."

"Blaine, you haven't seen the X-Men comic I was reading yesterday, have you?" Sam asked, wandering out of the bedroom. Kurt moved away from Blaine, before Sam could notice anything. "'Cause it's like no where."

"Comics, really?" Kurt sneered. "What are you, 12?"

Sam narrowed his eyes, but ignored him. "It was on the table."

Blaine shrugged. "Have you checked the bookshelf?" He asked, referring to the shelf in the living room that was really more of a magazine shelf than anything.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, s'not there. Just back issues of Vogue or whatever."

Kurt smirked a little to himself. "Actually, a lot of those are Vanity Fair as well."

Sam sighed a little, sounding defeated. "Whatever," He mumbled, going into the kitchen. He opened a random cupboard, not appearing to be looking for anything in particular, and his eyes popped open when he saw his X-Men comic sitting underneath a frying pan. "Hey, look what I found!" He said happily, pulling the comic out and not bothering to close the cupboard. He grinned.

"What was it doing in there?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I dunno," Sam said with a shrug. "Let's just order a pizza for dinner, alright?" Sam mumbled, opening the comic and beginning to read.

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who was looking away and whistling innocently.

* * *

**A/N: The songs Sam sings are "Paper Thin Walls" by Modest Mouse, and "Shake Tramp" by Marianas Trench. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Summer was ending, and the leaves were turning golden when Blaine finally began Sam's upgrade from "boyfriend" to "worker."

Kurt had been instructed to stay in his bedroom, but after Blaine told Sam what he wanted from him, he had no trouble hearing.

"You're kidding—_tell me _you're kidding!" Sam screamed. He sounded like he was about to cry. "Oh _god _Blaine I _can't—_"

Kurt could hear Blaine trying to reassure him, calm him down—_quiet _him down. The customer would hear.

Kurt felt something stir in his gut, something very 'd been looking forward to this for the longest time now, the moment when precious and innocent Sam would finally get what's coming to him...but it wasn't anything like he imagined. In fact, he felt a bit sick.

"Why don't you make _him _do it!" Sam shouted. "He's the big _slut._"

Kurt's head snapped up, and his mouth fell open a bit. Besides the incident with Sam's "singing," he hadn't given too much thought to what Sam thought of him, or the men he saw every day. Of course that was how it would look to him. He ground his teeth, feeling a little less sympathetic then he had a moment ago. _We'll see who's the big slut _now, he thought bitterly.

"Please, Blaine— I—_please._" Sam begged.

_God, just shut up and do it already, _Kurt thought, running his fingers through his hair. He couldn't take listening to this.

There was a long, drawn out silence and Kurt held his breath. He strained his ears, and tried to hear what was happening. Blaine must be talking, murmuring the sweet little lies that would move Sam into the bedroom and onto his knees, barely ready and only semi-willing to let a stranger fuck him for money.

Kurt jumped as a quiet rapping on his door startled him out of his thoughts. "You can come out now," Blaine said quietly.

Kurt pulled open the door, and found Blaine leaning against the frame, a tired look on his face. "So, that went well."

Blaine groaned and turned away. "God he was difficult..."

"Well what did you expect? He thinks he's your _boyfriend._" Kurt said, rolling his eyes. He glanced towards the bedroom, where inside Sam was probably scared out of his mind. He had been.

"You weren't that difficult." Blaine reminded him. He put a hand Kurt's shoulder, and ran his thumb along his smooth neck. "You were perfect."

"Well, I knew you loved me." Kurt whispered. "I knew you wouldn't let anything bad ever happen to me..." Kurt closed his eyes and let the feeling of Blaine's hands on him take him away from thoughts of Sam's wide, blue-green eyes and the way they were probably brimming with tears at that very moment. It felt so good, to have Blaine's hands back on him.

"I've missed you, Kurt." Blaine whispered, brushing his lips over his neck. Kurt shivered, his mouth opening a bit. "I've missed this..."

"So come back to me." Kurt said, his voice low and quiet. He opened his eyes. "Sam's done now. He's right where he should be and so are you." He said, squeezing his arms around him.

Blaine shook his head, pulling away. "No, not yet. You remember how you were right after. It's delicate. I need to be with Sam more then ever now." He folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head.

Kurt sighed. "You think he might leave?"

Blaine shook his head again. "Nah, he needs me."

"I tried," Kurt said, shrugging.

"Didn't get very far." Blaine pointed out. He took his hands, and look him in the eye. "Kurt, when I found Sam he was like a lost little puppy dog. No where to go, no idea about the world he was living in or how to survive. Another week, and I guarantee he would have gotten picked up by some low-life sleazy pimp, who'd make him turn tricks on a street corner for a hundred bucks an hour. He is _lucky _that I found him. Lucky that he's got someone who's going to take care of him, and make sure he's safe."

Kurt smiled, and leaned in to kiss him. "I know," He said, hugging himself close his boyfriend. "But I don't want to be here the next few times... ok?"

He felt Blaine nod. "I'll make sure you're scheduled elsewhere."

Kurt smiled, and glanced back at the door to the bedroom. He could hear the bed creaking now, and a low moaning he knew was from the customer...

Sam didn't make a sound.

* * *

Blaine made good on his promise. When Sam was introduced to his second customer, Kurt was across town in a swanky apartment, letting Shane Kelly, the owner of a very prominent night club in downtown New York called _Clamour, _tell him what a perfectly exquisite creature he was. Kurt had to admit, he loved it when the customers flirted with him like this, treating him like he was a beautiful prize.

"I mean, good lord," Shane said in a clipped Irish accent, circling his hand around Kurt's waist. He kissed along the back of Kurt's neck, his fingers pulling his shirt out from his pants. "You are truly magnificent."

Kurt tilted his head back and let his eyes fall shut as Shane ran his fingers under his shirt, tracing the contours of his body. "Mmm, do go on..." He murmured.

Shane pressed his mouth against his ear, and spoke in a rough voice. "I cannot _wait _to see how you look on your back, while I'm fucking you..."

The shift was instant, so quick Kurt never had to think about it. Kurt just let himself fall away and was replaced with a different Kurt, who found comments like that just as enjoyable as the real Kurt had found the praise. At this point, switching into character was second nature.

_This _Kurt pulled away, and fixed Shane with a seductive grin. He trailed his finger down Shane's chest and tilted his head to the side. "Talk," He said, his lips not even half an inch from his customers. "Is cheap." Shane was breathing heavily, and when Kurt moved his hand between Shane's legs, an aching moan rumbled from the back of his throat. "But since I'm not...why don't we get to it?" He bit down on Shane's lip as his kissed him, grinning at Shane's reaction.

"Don't worry, love." Shane replied, backing up towards his bed. "I've got enough money to keep you here all night long..."

Kurt grinned. "Promises, promises..." He said, pushing Shane back on the bed and climbing on top of him.

Blaine was going to be so pleased.

* * *

While he could avoid being there when Sam met his customers, he did still have to live there the rest of the time, and if he thought Sam had been a pain to live with _before, _it was nothing compared to now...

The change that had taken place in the once sunny blond was almost incredible. He barely spoke anymore. He just sat on the couch all day, leaning against Blaine when he was there and staring off into space. Kurt never saw him reading his comics, or heard him playing his stupid guitar.

Eventually Sam began watching TV again, but that was about the only sign he showed of improvement. Kurt wanted to shake him, and slap him, and then shake him some more.

Blaine was growing annoyed too, because unlike Kurt, Sam didn't seem to be able to snap himself out of it when he had to see a customer. He slumped around in front of them and never made eye-contact. It was wholly unprofessional.

Kurt didn't understand him. Sure, starting out hadn't been fun for him either, but Blaine had gotten him through it in the least painful way possible. And he was doting on Sam every minute of the day, kissing him and holding him and trying to convince him to go out... but Sam just _sat_ there. It was ridiculous. Kurt would have killed to have that time with Blaine back, and Sam was just letting it roll right over him. Well, he wasn't willing to just let Blaine waste his time like that. If Sam didn't care about being with Blaine, there was someone who did.

"It's my turn," Kurt told him one night before dinner, standing with his hands firmly on his hips. Blaine raised his eyebrows. "I'm serious, he's had you for long enough and he doesn't even care anymore. I miss you, and I want you. _Now._"

Blaine glanced around the apartment, as if he expected to find Sam sitting somewhere and staring at him with his big puppy dog eyes, but Sam was three blocks over, at the apartment of one of Kurt's regular customers (something that bothered him greatly).

To his immense surprise, Blaine nodded. "Alright." He said, walking towards him.

"Really?" Kurt asked, abandoning his firm tone.

Blaine smiled, and put a hand on his cheek. "Yeah. You're right, Sam's had me all to himself for long enough, and I mean he's not doing great now, but it doesn't seem like anything I'm doing is helping so..." He shrugged. "I'll talk to him about spending tonight with you when he gets back."

* * *

Four months, two weeks and three days. That was exactly how long it had been since Blaine and Kurt had slept together—spent the _night _together. But from the moment Blaine lay him back on his bed, it was if none of that time had existed. They'd never been apart, there'd never been a Sam. It was just him and his boyfriend, together forever.

He couldn't believe how good it felt, to have Blaine's mouth back on his body, and Blaine's legs tangled between his, and the taste of Blaine'sskin back on his lips. How good it felt to not have to be someone else during sex, but to just relax and let himself—his _real _self—enjoy what was happening.

"I love you," Blaine murmured, a kissing a line down his neck the way so many other mouths that weren't his had done. "So much..."

Kurt smiled, pressing his fingers deep into Blaine's back as he clung to him. He wanted to get lost in this, in this moment where it was just him and Blaine, and no one else. He wanted Blaine to be his, forever, and he only wanted to be Blaine's. Blaine's and no one else's. He didn't want anyone else, he didn't want there to have been anyone else.

"I love you too." Kurt whispered.

Kurt didn't understand the tears in his eyes, and he hoped Blaine didn't see them.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

The next morning, Kurt hummed to himself as he cleaned up the dishes. Sam, god bless him, had chosen to sleep in, which meant he and Blaine had been able to share a very romantic breakfast together. Kurt had made pancakes, and even allowed Blaine to assist him by having him chop up little bits of fruit. They'd shared a lot of battery kisses, and Kurt had been in heaven, despite usually hating the taste of raw batter. But on Blaine's lips, the bitter taste hardly seemed to matter.

After Blaine had gone for the day, Kurt began cleaning up on his own. There was still quite a lot of pancakes left, and Kurt left them out as he cleaned, so Sam could have some when he woke up.

Kurt wasn't sure how much of his sudden good will towards Sam was gratitude, because he'd allowed them to have breakfast alone, or how much was guilt because he'd taken Blaine back. Either way, it felt sort of nice to not have that constant feeling of venom settled in his gut, so he didn't dwell on it.

Kurt heard Sam's door open, and he turned around to greet him. "Good Morning," He said, wondering if Sam was going to kill him for sounding so chipper. He looked like he wanted too.

"Morning..." Sam mumbled, taking a seat at the counter where the pancakes were sitting. He barely glanced at them.

"I made pancakes," Kurt said, pushing the plate closer to Sam. He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"I only like chocolate chip, so no thanks." Sam muttered, propping his chin up on his elbow and staring vacantly off at the wall.

Kurt blinked a few times, and then turned around and began taking the pots and pans back out of the cupboard. He grabbed the flour, along with a small bag of chocolate chips, and began pouring the ingredient into a large bowl.

It took Sam a good five minutes to register this. He looked at Kurt, cracking eggs and heating up the stove, and furrowed his brow. "What're you doing?"

"Making chocolate chip pancakes," Kurt replied, stirring in the milk.

"Why?"

"Because that's what you said you liked."

Sam was silent. He didn't say anything else until Kurt finished making the pancakes, and set them down in front of him. Sam stared at them for a moment, and his shoulders shook a little. "Thanks," He whispered.

"No problem," Kurt said, beginning to clean up. Again.

Sam helped himself to a few of the pancakes, and picked at them for a minute. "I... you..."

Kurt turned and raised an eyebrow at him, and Sam stared down at the counter. "You do it too, right?" He asked timidly. "All those men, I mean... you do it too?"

Kurt put his hands on the counter, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do."

Sam's eyes began to water, and Kurt found himself leaning away a bit. "How?" Sam asked, tears sticking in his eyelashes. "How d'you do it?"

Kurt bit his lip, watching the tears begin to trickle down Sam's flushed cheeks. He grabbed a napkin from the counter, and moved next to him. "I pretend I'm someone else." He said, wiping the tears off his face. Sam looked at him in that wide-eyed way of his, listening intently. "Some character I made up in my head, who knows how to act in those situations, and doesn't care about what they're doing. So when I'm with a customer, I don't have to be me. And then it's easy."

Sam sniffed, and Kurt put a hand on his cheek. "You can do it too," He told him.

Sam looked away, and Kurt removed his hand. Somewhere in the quiet apartment, a clock was ticking. Kurt hadn't even been aware they owned an analog clock... he'd never heard it before. That seemed strange, because the ticking sounded so loud now...

Sam glanced back at him, and Kurt hoped he wasn't just imagining that his eyes looked calmer. "Thank you," He said, a heavy weight to his words. "You know... for the pancakes and stuff."

Kurt smiled. "You're welcome,"

He walked back around the counter and resumed his cleaning. He was done by the time Sam was finished his breakfast (having eaten every single one of the pancakes) and he took his plate from him.

Sam teetered on his chair for a moment, and gave Kurt a cursory glance. "So... so d'ya wanna watch TV with me or something?" He asked quietly.

Kurt paused, and folded his arms. "Let's get something straight." He said, raising his eyebrows. "We are not friends. We are roommates, and co-workers I suppose—but not friends. Making you pancakes and giving you some advice does not change that, kapiche?"

Sam nodded quickly.

"Good."

Sam looked at the floor, fiddling his hands in his lap. "...so, do you?"

Kurt sighed. "Yeah, alright."

* * *

Sam laughed, biting down on his thumb as he listened to Kurt talk.

"So, it's a perfectly normal encounter otherwise—" Kurt said, his feet folded under him on the couch. "I'm flirting with him, telling him how _sexy _and _muscular _he is—although honestly there is nothing _remotely _sexy about these muscles—steroids, so obvious—"

Sam laughed again and Kurt smiled, a little relieved to see a bit of the sparkle return to Sam's eyes. He'd been so completely dead recently, at this point Kurt was pretty sure he'd dress up as a clown and do the hula if he thought it would reanimate him.

They'd been spending most of their time together over the last week and a half, and Kurt had grudgingly admitted that_ maybe_ Sam wasn't the tumour he'd thought he was. Of course, it seemed easier to be kind now that Blaine was back in _his _bed every night, if for nothing more than to sleep.

Now that they were getting to know each other, Kurt was pleased to find that Sam was actually quite sweet and funny. And without the haze of hatred skewing his judgment, his penchant for cartoons and comic books seemed endearing instead of childish.

"Anyways, so we start doing it—surprise surprise, he's a bottom." Kurt continued, rolling his eyes. Sam actually giggled. "Whatever, right? So I'm on top of him, and he's on his stomach and he starts moaning—but not just moaning. Moaning a name. And it's not mine. He's moaning _Denny._"

"_Denny?" _Sam laughed. "What kind of a name is that?"

Kurt shrugged, laughing at the memory. "No clue. But it gets weirder. He's moaning '_no Denny—you can't have me, Denny...'._"

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding."

Kurt shook his head. "Nope. In retrospect, I should have seen that coming when he asked me to hold his hands behind his back and call him a slut." He shrugged again.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "That's so fucked up. People are pervs."

Kurt made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Don't judge. Just because someone's kink isn't yours, doesn't mean there's something wrong with it. And he was very nice, gave me a big tip."

Sam nodded his head thoughtfully. "I guess... what about the jerks that throw me around and call me a slut?" He asked, his voice turning bitter. "Can I judge them?"

Kurt frowned. "You can do one better; tell Blaine. He won't take their business again."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. Just because they're paying for you doesn't mean they have the right to treat you like trash. You're a person, and you're providing a service for which they should be grateful."

Sam gave him a small smile, and was about to respond when a clicking sound from the front door let them know Blaine was home. By the time the door opened a second later, Kurt was sitting at the counter, looking through January's issue of _Vogue _with a bored expression on his face, and Sam was pretending to be taking a nap on the couch.

Blaine smiled at the sleeping blond, and then came over to give Kurt a peck on the cheek. "Hello, beautiful." He said, keeping his voice low so he didn't wake up Sam. "How was your day?"

Kurt shrugged. "Alright, boring mostly. I had a customer around noon but other then that..."

Blaine smiled at him, and glanced back at Sam. "No stimulating conversations with your favourite roommate?" He teased.

Kurt snorted. "Oh yeah, that's what I'm going to do with my days, sit around talking about comic books and whether or not mayonnaise and lemon juice really bleach your hair."

Blaine chuckled and kissed him on the nose, then went into his room to get changed. Kurt looked over at Sam, who had opened one eye and was grinning crookedly at him. Kurt grinned back, and Sam shook his head. "You're such a bitch," He mouthed silently.

Kurt blew him a kiss, and winked in response.

Neither of them were sure why they were lying to Blaine, but Kurt knew they were going to keep doing it for as long as possible. So much of their lives were controlled by Blaine, and they both wanted something to themselves. Their friendship, sudden and unexpected as it was, was theirs and theirs alone. Kurt intended to keep it that way.

* * *

Kurt flipped through the pages of his magazine, trying to force himself to focus on this seasons latest designer clothes, but he was having trouble. He thumbed one of the glossy corners, and glanced over his shoulder at Sam's bedroom door, where he'd disappeared a half an hour ago with a customer. The customer, Brett Neely, was one Kurt'd had a few times before and he had to say, he wasn't fond of him.

It wasn't that the man wasn't nice exactly, he was... but he was always very forceful. That, combined with the fact that he was rather _well endowed_, always made going down on him a fairly traumatic experience. Kurt had given Sam as much instruction as he could, warning about how he tended to jam himself right down your throat when he was about to come and how he would hold you there until he was done riding out the orgasm, but there was only so much he could do.

He was worried. Sam was sensitive, and fragile. He wasn't like Kurt. He couldn't handle being treated that way... Kurt hated to think about him being hurt.

The door opened, and it took all of Kurt's efforts not to jump up to his feet. That wouldn't be professional, it would put the customer on the spot. Instead, he remained lounging on the couch, pretending to look at his magazine.

"Hey there, Kurt." Brett said, zipping up his jacket.

Kurt looked up and smiled. "Hello Brett," He said smoothly. "And how are we today?"

Brett grinned, and glanced at Sam, who was standing off to the side with his shoulders hunched, just a little. To his credit, he managed to give Brett a look that sort of passed for coy. "Pretty damn good."

Despite Sam's attempts to cover up, Kurt could tell he didn't return the sentiments. "Glad to hear it." He replied.

Brett smiled at him again, and looked Sam over once more. "I'll uh, see you boys later." He said, and Sam began to walk him to the door way. "Bye, Sam."

Sam nodded, and closed the door behind him. The he turned and collapsed on the couch. Kurt went and sat next to him, and Sam slumped over, resting his head against Kurt's shoulder. Kurt was surprised at the contact, but he put his arm over Sam's shoulders anyways. "How are you?" He asked gently.

Sam didn't answer, but Kurt thought he felt his shoulders shake a little. "Do you want me to make you some tea?"

Sam shook his head in response, and Kurt thought quietly for minute. "Do you wanna watch that X-Men cartoon?"

After a pause, Sam nodded and Kurt went to go get the DVD's from Sam's room. He put in the one Sam had been watching before, and then retook his seat next to Sam on the couch. Sam put his head back against Kurt's shoulder, and wrapped his arms around Kurt's middle, holding him like a teddy bear.

Kurt looked down at him for a moment and wondered if that was jut how Sam was with everyone. Besides Blaine, no one had ever been affectionate like this with him. But, it did feel sort of nice to have Sam hugging him like that, so he pulled his feet up on the couch, tucked them under himself and snuggled back against Sam.

As they sat in silence, watching the old cartoon, Kurt realize this was the safest he'd felt in a long, long time.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

_Whore, goddamned worthless whore—_

_Mmm, you like that, don't you, you little slut..._

_Come on, take it. Take it and _earn_ that fucking money. _

Sam shut his eyes and stepped directly under the showers spray, willing the pounding of the water to drown out the horrible words in his head. Awful memories.

Sam put his arms out, pressing his hands against the wet tile as he let the hot water cascade down his back. His bruises stung as the sharp needles of water hit them, but after a few moment the pain began to ease as the heat worked into his sore muscles and loosened them.

His back was always a mess these days. The only time it felt alright was in the shower, or whenever he could convince Kurt to give him a massage. He was pretty sure Kurt did actually have magical healing fingers.

He thought back to a few months ago, when Kurt had told him to show those bruises to Blaine. Told him that Blaine wouldn't let people treat him like that, if he knew. Sam grimaced. He'd been dumb enough to actually believe him, then. Believed Kurt when he told him that people weren't allowed to hurt and abuse him. Believed that Blaine would care.

When he'd brought his bruises and stories of abuse to Blaine, all Blaine had done was assure him that it was normal. It was part of the territory, Blaine had said. People were paying for his body, and they expected to be allowed to do with it what they wanted. It was just the way it was, for everyone.

Except, the way Kurt reacted to the bruises and marks on his body told Sam that that wasn't quite true.

He didn't bring it up again to Blaine, no matter how much Kurt insisted. Kurt was _sure _Blaine would care, he would do something. Sam just told him it was fine, he could handle it.

This was just his life now.

Sam wasn't really sure how long it had been since he'd left his home in Tennessee. Sometimes it felt like years and years, and other times he thought he might have been home just a few days ago. It all got jumbled together.

_Let's see, _Sam thought, attempting to put together a time line in his head. _Me, Jason, Ricky and Joey lived together for like four months... Met Blaine in the second month... moved in with him when the band broke up... two months of being a_ fucking idiot_... three months of being a whore. _

It hadn't even been a year. Not even a year since his parents had thrown him out, after they'd found out that the job he'd had at Dairy Queen wasn't really a job at Dairy Queen at all, but a job taking off his clothes for cash at a strip club called _Stallions. _That was a _fag _joint, they'd said. It didn't matter how good it had paid, they couldn't have a fag living under their roof. Especially not with little kids around.

Well, that had been fine (no, not really). He'd been looking for a reason to leave anyhow, so he could start really committing to his band. They'd been good, Sam had been _so sure _they'd been good, and he'd thought they'd really been able to make it. So they'd all packed their bags and moved to New York.

Always such an idiot.

They all had been. They'd barely been there two months before they were at each other's throats every minute of the day. They didn't have enough money, their living space was too small for four guys, they weren't getting any gigs... it was hell. Looking back, Sam was surprised they'd lasted as long as they had.

Moving slowly, begrudgingly, Sam reached forward, turned off the water and got out of the shower. His back immediately started aching again, but he'd been in the shower for 20 minutes now and if he used up all the hot water, Kurt would kill him.

Sam grabbed a towel from off the rack and smiled, thinking about Kurt. Kurt was like the one bright light in the ocean full of total _suck_that his life had been for the last not-quite-year. It was crazy to think that a little over three months ago they'd practically hated each other. Now, Sam couldn't even imagine a life where Kurt wasn't his friend. He couldn't imagine getting through a _quatre _of the things he had to do if Kurt wasn't there to help him, and comfort him... hold him.

Sam sometimes thought that the holding him was the most important part, even more important than the advice and guidance. Sam had always been one for cuddling, ever since he was a teenager. But back then it had just been something _nice _to do. Cuddling, holding hands...

It wasn't like that anymore. Now it had become something_ necessary. _There was always a part of Sam that just wasn't alright unless Kurt was holding him, or touching him in some way. He didn't know why, he just knew it was the way it was and he didn't plan on changing.

"Hello, beautiful," Blaine said as Sam exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist and his hair still dripping. Blaine leaned in and kissed him, and Sam tried his best not to flinch away. "Mmm," Blaine mumbled, pulling back and smiling at him. "Squeaky clean."

Sam swallowed, and looked off down the hallway out to their living room. "Uh, isn't Kurt—"

"Right out there, I know, I know." Blaine said, taking a step out of Sam's personal space. Sam exhaled a little. "I just can't help myself, I guess. You're all naked and wet," He teased. "And I miss you." Blaine's hands drifted down to his hips, and settled right on one of Sam's dark green bruises.

_Pretend, _a voice in Sam's mind whispered. It sounded like Kurt. _You need to pretend you're someone else. Someone who loves him. _"I miss you, too," Sam said quietly. "I... I wish things were different." That was almost true. He did very much wish things were different... just not in the way Blaine thought he meant.

Blaine nodded, a remorseful look on his face. "Me too," He whispered, trailing a finger down Sam's cheek. His touch was so soft, so light and gentle. Comforting, reassuring. The look in his warm hazel eyes was so loving, full of regret for the way things were, longing to be with Sam and only Sam.

"I should go get dressed," Sam said. The whisper of Kurt in his head told him to give Blaine a kiss, but he ignored it. He wasn't quite the actor that Kurt was.

Blaine nodded, and Sam turned and walked off to the bedroom he'd once shared with Blaine. The voice of Kurt was disappointed with him, disappointed that he hadn't put more into the act.

At the same time, Kurt's voice was also very impressed. Not with Sam's pitiful performance, but with Blaine's. It was almost eerie, how good Blaine was. He was almost perfect.

As Sam got dressed, he wondered at how long Blaine had been putting on this act for... and how many other boys had fallen for it.

* * *

Sam groaned, shifting around uncomfortably on his knees. "Hurry up," He whined.

Kurt put a hand on Sam's neck and pushed his head back down. "Don't rush me, this isn't as easy as it looks. It's an art."

Sam scoffed. "Are you kidding? I've been doing this myself for years and it only ever started taking forever when _you _started doing it."

"That's because I do it better than you," Kurt said. Sam had lifted his head up again, and Kurt shoved it down again. "Sam, come on. You're going to make a mess of the washroom."

Sam sighed. "Sorry, sorry," He mumbled. He shuffled forward on his knees, making sure to keep his head directly over the tub.

"Good," Kurt approved. He picked the small black dye bowl up from the floor again, and resumed applying the bleach-and-blond-dye combo to Sam's dark roots. He was trying to go as fast as he could, because he knew leaning over the tub like this had to be hell for Sam's back, but he wasn't willing to compromise quality in the name of speediness. He'd make it up to him after by giving him a massage. "So this is your natural hair colour, huh? The roots I'm covering up."

"I guess,"

"What colour is it, exactly? It's too hard to tell with just the roots."

Sam laughed. "I don't even remember anymore."

"Was it at least blond-_ish?_" The roots looked either like light brown or dark blond, but there wasn't very much of them and they were still blended with the bleached blond strands of the rest of Sam's hair.

Sam nodded, making the brush in Kurt's hand slip up and smear dye on his scalp. "Sam, if you keep moving I'm going to wind up bleaching your skull," Kurt chastised. He grabbed a towel and wiped off the area of Sam's scalp he'd gotten dye on.

"Sorry," Sam said again. "And I think my hair was kind of like... dark blond. Sandy blond? Something like that."

Kurt nodded. "That sounds nice," He said. "I bet you looked good like that."

After Kurt finished applying the dye, they wrapped Sam's head in a towel and Sam set his watch to go off in 20 minutes, when he would need to wash it out.

"You'll need to rinse on your own," Kurt said, straightening up. "I've got a customer coming in 30, and I need to get ready."

Sam nodded, leaning back against the side of the tub. "What customer?"

Kurt shrugged. "Dunno, forgot to ask," He said stretching his arms and back.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Right. Yeah, well it's not like it's an important thing to remember," Sam mumbled. "''Scuse me Blaine, but could you perhaps tell me the name of the man who'll be fucking me today?'"

Kurt glared at him. "What crawled up your butt?" He asked. Sam glared back at him, and Kurt clapped a hand over his mouth. "Those were a poor choice of words..."

* * *

Kurt hadn't had time to wash his hair, but he took a very fast shower and changed his clothes before his customer arrived, and he just hoped he didn't smell like bleach. When he heard the knock on the door, he gave himself one last sniff before walking over and opening it.

"Hello there," Kurt said automatically. His eyes bugged a bit when he saw the customer. "Jeremy!" He cried, backing up to let him in.

"Hey, Kurt." Jeremy said, giving him a big smile. Kurt closed the door behind him, and smiled back at Jeremy. "You look good."

"Yeah, yeah you too." Kurt said. Jeremy had the same light stubble that he'd had almost a full year ago, and now that he wasn't so nervous Kurt was able to appreciate his attractive features. Jeremy had beautiful, warm brown eyes and a kind smile. His hair was a bit longer than it had been, it was neat and styled into sort of a subtle fauxhauk. "It's good to see you again," He commented.

Jermey grinned, and nodded. "It's kind of 'crunch time' at work right now, and I need stress relief, so I'm making the rounds again. I figured it had been long enough since I saw you... and I kind of wanted to know how you were doing." He smiled again. "Good, obviously."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah... oh, wait, I want you to meet someone!" He said, then ran off to get Sam. He found him in the bathroom again, towelling off his freshly rinsed hair. Kurt noted that he had done an excellent job touching up his roots, as usual. "Sam, come on," He said. He grabbed Sam's wrist and hauled him out, then presented him to an amused looking Jeremy. "Jeremy, this is my friend Sam."

"It's nice to meet you, Sam," Jermey said, reaching forward and shaking Sam's hand. Sam stared blankly back at him.

"Jeremy was my first ever customer," Kurt said, poking Sam in the midriff. "He was really sweet,"

Sam forced a smile to his face. "Great," He said. "Well... I have to go get dressed so..." He nodded at them, then turned and walked out of the room.

Kurt sighed. "Sometimes I wish he was a puppet, and I could control the things he says and does." He said, leading Jeremy over to his bedroom. "He's so frusterating."

Jeremy smiled. "Ah, it's ok. I understand. I'm not paying him, he's got no reason to pretend to be happy to see me."

Kurt closed the bedroom door, and Jeremy took a seat on the edge of the bed. "But that's the thing, it's not just _now. _It's always. He's always like that and I don't know what to do." Kurt sat down next to Jeremy, and put his hand on his knee. "I don't know why, but he seems to keep getting these awful customers. And I don't know if they're treating him badly _because _of the way he is, or if he's the way he is because they treat him badly." He shook his head. "I just wish things were better for him, you know?"

Jeremy nodded, and looked expectantly at Kurt. Kurt guessed he knew he was about to ask him something. "So..." Kurt continued slowly, "I was wondering if maybe the next time you were... looking for someone, you could ask Blaine for Sam?" He asked. "I just, I want someone who'll be sweet to him. Please?"

Jeremy laughed. "Ah, gee Kurt, I don't know." He said. "I mean, it'd be a real inconvenience for me to have sex with your gorgeous blond friend. You're kind of putting me out here."

Kurt smiled. "So, that's a yes?"

Jeremy sighed. "If I _have _to." He grinned, and put his hand on the back of Kurt's neck, brushing his thumb along the curve.

Kurt leaned in, and pressed his lips against Jeremy's. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Well, sometimes we have to make sacrifices," Jeremy mumbled, kissing Kurt back. "And if I can make a pretty boy happy in the process..."

Kurt grinned, and nipped at Jeremy's bottom lip with his teeth. "Are you talking about me, or Sam?" He asked. He heard Jeremy swallow a little as he trailed a finger down his chest.

Jeremy paused, and leaned back a bit. He looked at Kurt, and the playfulness seemed to be gone from his eyes. He suddenly looked very serious. "You're so different," He said quietly.

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Different?" He asked, surprised. "In a good way or a bad one?"

Jeremy put a hand on his cheek, and brushed some of Kurt's hair over his ear. "I don't know..."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Sam opened the door for Jeremy, and tried to make himself smile. "Hey," He said, as Jeremy walked in. Sam shut the door behind him. Inside his head, Kurt was already disappointed in his performance.

"Sam," Jeremy said, nodding a him.

They stood there for a moment, and Sam ducked his head and stared at the floor. "Uh, Kurt had to be somewhere else, but he says hi and stuff," Sam muttered.

Jeremy smiled at him, but Sam looked away again. "Too bad, I was hoping..." He trailed off, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well... it's probably better this way."

Sam nodded. Kurt had told him all about Jeremy's don't-get-attached rule, and he knew better than anyone how easy it was to get attached to Kurt. "The bedroom's this way," Sam said, nodding towards his door.

Jeremy followed Sam into the bedroom, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"How do you want to do this?" Sam asked, closing the door. He turned around and pulled his shirt off over his head.

"Uh..." Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his head. He smiled awkwardly. "Don't you want to maybe talk first?"

Sam sighed, and took a seat next to Jeremy on the bed. "Why?" He asked.

Jeremy shrugged, and put his hand over Sam's. Sam stiffened. "Just to get comfortable—"

Sam took his hand away, ignoring the loud of protests from Kurt in his head. "Look, Jeremy," He said, turning to face him. "You don't need to do this, alright? This whole 'nice guy' shtick... I'm not Kurt. I'm not anyone. So just don't... don't bother."

Jeremy blinked a few times, taken aback. "I wasn't..." He looked down, frowning. "It's not a _shtick._" He mumbled. Sam frowned, wondering if he'd actually hurt his feelings. For a moment, he considered apologizing, but the thought made his stomach turn. They never apologized to _him. _

Jeremy lifted his head back up, and Sam leaned in and pressed his lips against him, trying to move things along. When he kissed him, Jeremy made a muffled, surprised noise and pulled back.

Sam sighed again, and raised his eyebrows. "What is it?"

Jeremy swallowed, and looked at him for a moment. Then he put his hands together in his lap, and stared down at them. "Last time I was here, Kurt told me he didn't know why you kept getting such horrible customers. He couldn't understand it." Jeremy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and Sam looked away. "I sort of get the feeling you _do _know,"

Sam glanced at Jeremy for a moment, then turned his eyes back to the bedroom wall. "I've got an idea," He muttered.

Jeremy looked up again, turning his body towards him."But you're not going to tell Kurt?"

Sam shook his head. "No... not like he could do anything anyways."

Jeremy placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, and Sam felt his skin prickle under it, but he didn't brush it away. "I'm not interested in treating you like that, Sam," He said quietly.

Sam looked at him, staring hard into Jeremy's light brown eyes, but he couldn't see any trace of a lie. The concept of someone not wanting to hurt him wasn't entirely foreign to him, he had a few customers that were fine with just fucking... but none of them bothered to be nice like this, either. Save one, but Sam had figured he was the sole exception. His one good customer in a sea of jerks and sadists. He just wasn't the kind of person people bothered being kind too.

Sam leaned in again, and gave Jeremy a soft kiss.

* * *

Kurt wasn't sure what he'd been hoping for, setting Sam up with Jeremy. Whatever it was, he didn't get it. Had he been hoping it would start a streak of really nice customers who treated Sam like he deserved? That it would help Sam loosen up a little? Sure, Sam had been in a decent mood the day he'd seen him—there'd even been a slight _blush _on his cheeks when Kurt had grilled him about how things had gone—but the day passed, and the good mood with it. And then it was back to the same.

At least he'd had one good customer, for once. Kurt figured one was better than nothing.

Kurt just wished Sam would _listen _to him, and talk to Blaine about what was happening. He'd only been working for roughly four and a half months, but in that time Sam'd had more bad customers than Kurt'd had in his almost full year. At least, sometimes twice a week, Sam would come home with a limp, or bruises on his back. That wasn't right, and Kurt had begged him _repeatedly_ to talk to Blaine about it, tell Blaine to_ refuse _those customers, but Sam barely listened to him. The only times he had were when it had been really bad, and he hadn't been able to work for a few days. Other wise, he insisted on suffering in silence.

Lost for a way to help him, Kurt spent most of his time trying to keep Sam happy. He watched TV with him, and talked to him, he dragged him out for breakfast and lunch. He held him, and stroked his hair when he was upset, trying to remind him how beautiful and amazing he was. Reminding him that he didn't deserve what was happening, and it wasn't fair. Reminding him that he loved him.

Still, not even hours of cuddling while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Doctor Who could heal the hand shaped bruises that seemed to be a permanent fixture on Sam's hips.

It was one of those very rare occasions where neither of them had a customer all day, and Kurt had taken Sam out to the mall. He'd hoped to get Sam some new, decent clothes, but so far things weren't working out that way. There was only one store Sam had shown any interest in going in, and Kurt was beginning to suspect that Sam's intention wasn't to _shop _in the store, but to move in and live there. He was taking forever.

Kurt shifted his weight around on his feet, leaning back against the counter. He crossed his arms, and rolled his eyes. He made loud, pointed _huff _noises. He did everything he could conceive of to send the message "_I am impatient,_" but it was all in vain. Sam just continued down the row of video games, trailing his fingers across the shelf as he took his sweet time.

Kurt wasn't sure if Sam was ignoring him on purpose, or if he was just genuinely _that _invested in looking at the games, but he was getting very close to not caring. Under normal circumstances, he would have just _dragged _Sam out of the store the moment he'd begun feeling bored. The only thing stopping him from doing so now was the contended look Sam'd had on his since they entered the stupid Game Stop, roughly a half an hour before. And after all, that was why he'd taken him out shopping in the first place, even when Sam had _insisted _he didn't want to leave the apartment. But with the way things for were going for him, Kurt knew that Sam needed to have some fun.

"Can I help you?" A saleslady asked Kurt, obviously mistaking his impatience for a sign that he didn't know what to buy.

Kurt shook his head. "No. But you could try to help _him,_" He said, pointing across the store to where Sam was now digging through a bin of games labelled "half-price."

The saleslady smiled and nodded at him, and then went over to Sam and repeated her question. Sam looked up, and shook his head a little. He kept his eyes on the ground as he mumbled that he was "just looking."

Kurt was going to kill him. Literally. Today was the day Sam was going to die, and Kurt was going to do it, thus rendering all the work he'd put into making Sam happy utterly pointless.

Luckily, five minutes later it appeared that Sam had finally picked something out, and he walked back over to where Kurt was leaning against the counter, with the intention of making a purchase.

"Finally!" Kurt exclaimed. Sam blushed, and placed the package on the counter, then reached for Kurt's hand to hold.

Kurt wouldn't have thought twice about it, if it wasn't for the knowing smile the saleslady gave them when she went around the counter to ring up Sam's game. He supposed she assumed they were a couple, which was a fair assumption to make, what with the hand holding. It felt a little funny, almost like he was cheating on Blaine somehow. He almost took his hand away, just so more people wouldn't get the wrong idea about them.

But then Sam smiled at him, and he decided against it. Kurt had never been one to deny Sam physical affection, and he wasn't about to start now. It was just the way they were together—cuddling on the couch, or walking through the mall with their arms around each other.

Because it had been his idea to go out, Kurt insisted that he pay for Sam's video game. As he paid, Sam stood behind him with his arms around his waist and his chin resting on Kurt's shoulder. It was just comfortable, and natural for both of them. Kurt had never even thought it was strange, their mutual desire for physical affection. It made sense to him, that after everything they had to do, they would need affection like that. Physical affection that didn't want anything, that only meant the other person cared for you, and loved you. Neither of them were interested in sex... but they both needed to be touched.

* * *

After they'd returned home, they stowed their purchases at the back of the closet in Sam's room. The majority of what had been bought belonged to Kurt, and mostly consisted of shoes, but he had been able to convince Sam to make a few non-video game related purchases as well.

While rooting around in the junk Sam had somehow piled up in the closets corners, Kurt's hand brushed along something with steely wires, and made a soft _twanging _noise. Kurt felt his stomach sink as he realized what it was, and he stuck his hand further into the pile and pulled out Sam's guitar.

Kurt looked down at the instrument in his hands. "...Why is it you never play this anymore?" He asked.

"Hmm?" Sam mumbled, looking up from the plastic packaging he'd been struggling to pry off his video game. His face fell when he saw Kurt holding the guitar. "...Oh."

"Well?" Kurt asked, taking the guitar and sitting next to Sam on the bed. "You used to play it all the time."

Sam shrugged. "Musics just not the same anymore. It just kinda reminds me that..." Sam shook his head. "I don't know... that things weren't supposed to work out this way, I guess." Sam looked away, his shoulders slumped. "For me or you."

Kurt furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Sam bit his lip, and glanced at the old guitar. He hesitated slightly as he put his hand on and took it from Kurt. "I'll show you," He mumbled, positioning his fingers on the instruments strings. He took a moment to tune it slightly, and then began playing a quick but slightly sombre melody.

After a moment, Sam began to sing. _"Broadway's dark tonight... A little bit weaker than you used to be... broadway's dark tonight,"_ Sam's singing voice was slightly rusty after such a long time had passed since it had last been used, but it began to pick up as the song went on. _"See the young man sittin' in the old man's bar, waitin' for his turn to die..."_

Kurt's stomach's stomach churned a little. There was a bitterness in Sam's voice that hadn't been there before, and he hated hearing it.

"_The cowboy kills the rock star, and Friday night's gone too far, the dim light hides the years on all the faded girls..." _Sam sang. _"Forgotten but not gone, you drink it off your mind, you talk about the world like it's someplace that you've been..."_

It wasn't until the third verse that it really dawned on Kurt that Sam was singing to _him._ But not just to him, _about _him.

"_You see, you'd love to run home, but you know you ain't got one, cuz you're livin' in a world that you're best forgotten, around here..."_

Sam reached the chorus again, and this time the words tugged painfully at Kurt's heart.

"_Broadway's dark tonight... a little bit weaker than you used to be. Broadway's dark tonight... see the young man sittin' in the old man's bar, waitin' for his turn to die..."_

"Stop it." Kurt said suddenly, standing up violently. Sam's fingers slipped off the guitars strings and the music died off. Sam looked up at him, his face a mix between pity and sorrow. Kurt's lip quivered and he gave Sam a hurt look before around and storming out of his room.

* * *

The next morning, Kurt found out that Sam had a strange way of apologizing. It involved destroying the kitchen and forcing Kurt to clean it.

Somehow it still managed to work.

"I was trying to make you pancakes," Sam said miserably. He ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Kurt scrub at the burnt batter that covered their stove.

"Oh, is that what these are?" Kurt asked, holding up what on first sight appeared to be a plastic black disc.

Sam pouted at him. "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry about yesterday," He said quietly.

Kurt sighed, and put down the blackened sponge he'd been using. "It's alright." He said. "I shouldn't have pushed the guitar on you in the first place."

Kurt went back to scrubbing, but it was forced to stop a moment later as Sam sprung himself on him and wrapped him in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry. I don't ever want to fight with you again," Sam whispered, hugging him so hard Kurt thought he heard something crack. "It's the worst."

Kurt smiled, and hugged Sam back. "It was barely even a fight, Sammy," He told him. "It was more like a tiff."

"Worst tiff ever," Sam mumbled.

Kurt kissed Sam on his cheek, and ruffled his blond hair. "Don't worry, it's over now." He assured him. Sam gave him a bright smile, and Kurt couldn't help but return it. "Come on," He said, pulling out of Sam's embrace. "We have a pancake apocalypse to clean up."

Kurt went back to cleaning, but Sam didn't move. Kurt could feel Sam staring at him, and his hand stilled on the dirty stove. "Kurt, what I said..."

"Forget it Sam, it's done," Kurt said stiffly. "You apologized, I forgave you, we hugged." Kurt turned to Sam, and gave him a pleading look. "Can we please just forget it?"

Sam looked down at the floor, his blond hair falling in his face and obscuring his eyes. "Forgetting won't make it go away. It won't change things." Sam lifted his head back up, and gave Kurt a look he'd never seen on Sam's face before. It was hard and serious, and it made him look years older. For a moment, Kurt was almost scared. He didn't want this, didn't want to talk about this stuff. About the way things were supposed to turn out, or broadway, or anything Sam had been trying to say yesterday. He didn't want to listen to any of it.

Kurt turned away, and put his hands on the stove, bracing his arms against it. He felt Sam's hand on his shoulder, and when he looked back, the hard look was gone from his face. He looked like Sam again, soft and simple.

"Hey, it's okay Kurt," Sam said, lifting his hand up to Kurt's face. He brushed away the tears on his face, and Kurt sniffed self consciously. He hadn't even realized he'd been crying. "Never mind, forgetting it is fine. Fights over, we're moving on. Alright?"

Kurt nodded, and wiped away the rest of his with the back of his hand. "I just... I just can't Sam," He said.

Sam nodded, and then pulled Kurt in for a hug. Kurt rested his chin against Sam's shoulder, and closed his eyes. Sam strokes his hair, brushing some of it over his ear.

Kurt just wanted to forget, about everything that was supposed to be and the life he should have had. He wanted to forget this conversation, and that look on Sam's face. He wanted to so badly, and for now he let himself pretend that he could. For now.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Sam kept his hands shoved into his jacket pocket as he stood outside the customers apartment, waiting to be let in. He'd knocked already, and he thought he could hear movement from behind the thick black door, but no one had answered yet. He raised his fist and knocked again, and a moment later the door was yanked open by a bald man with a cellphone held against his ear.

"No, no I told you the documents needed to be faxed by _Monday, _you incompetent putz!" The man barked into the cellphone. He stepped back from the door, and motioned with his other hand for Sam to come in.

Sam followed the customer—Blaine had told him his name was Roy Katz—into his apartment, and stood awkwardly in the middle of it as Katz continued to verbally rip apart whoever he was talking to on the phone. "No—no I don't care what Norma said, I care what I said! Huh? Well if she said that then where the fuck is she now?"

Katz's face was slightly flushed, and it went all the way up to the top of his bald head. He was on the shorter side, at least a head shorter than Sam, and he appeared to be in his late 30's or early 40's. His apartment was nice, with a lot of modern looking furniture and decor. Sam thought he was standing in what must have counted as the living room. There were two black leather sofa's, a sleek glass coffee table and a large plasma TV mounted on the grey wall.

Just thinking about what all of it must have cost made Sam's head spin.

"Look, I don't give an acrobating _fuck _how you do it, just make sure it gets done or you can forget about coming in for work on Monday because _you'll be fucking fired!_" With that, Roy disconnected the call and slammed his cellphone down onto one of his leather couches, where it bounced up lightly and toppled to the floor. He took a moment to sigh heavily and pinch his eyes tightly with his thumb and forefinger, before turning to Sam. "You don't know anything about asset management or commercial real estate, do you?" He asked tiredly.

"Uhh..." Sam said, as Katz walked over to his coffee table and picked up what looked to Sam like a small silver pill box. "Honestly, I don't even know what those words mean."

Katz snorted, "You're a better man for it," He said. He then opened the box and took out a pinch of white powder, which he held up to his nostril and inhaled sharply. He repeated the action with his other nostril, and then blinked rapidly, wiping and his nose and sniffing a few more times.

"Do some." He said, coming over to where Sam was standing and holding out the box.

Sam hesitated. "Um, I don't really do that sort of stuff..."

Katz narrowed his eyes, and Sam felt his heart begin to thud inside his chest. "I wasn't _asking _you, I was _telling _you." Katz said, grabbing Sam by the back of his hair and pulling harshly. Sam sucked his breath in, trying not to yelp as pain shot threw his scalp. "Listen up, slut," Katz growled. "You're _mine _for the next two fucking hours and you're going to do what I tell you, _when _I tell you, alright?" He shook Sam painfully, and Sam cried out. "I have to deal with this bullshit all week from the fucking brain dead assholes I work with, and I'll be _fucked _before I tolerate it from a goddamned whore. Do you _understand?_"

Sam nodded frantically, barely able to concentrate on what was being said to him through the pain. Katz let go finally and Sam let himself fall against the back of couch, gripping the black leather as he steadied himself.

"Good," Katz said, a predatory smile on his face. Sam breathed heavily, shrinking back under Katz's gaze. "Now get your ass into the bedroom and strip," He said, pointing to another black door across the apartment. "And let's see if we can work through some of those anger issues people keep telling me I have."

"I need to talk to you," Kurt said, taking a seat on the edge of his and Blaine's bed. Blaine put down the book he was reading, and gave him an expectant look. "It's about Sam,"

Kurt had been putting off speaking to Blaine about Sam for a while now, for fear that it might betray their secret to him, but enough was enough now. That evening Sam had come home with long scratches and welts covering his back and hips, and when he walked it was less with a limp than with a stagger. He'd barely been coherent enough to even tell Kurt what had happened, he'd just sobbed in Kurt's arms for the better part of an hour.

Kurt couldn't take seeing his friend like that, and if Sam wasn't going to say anything in his own defence, it was up to Kurt.

Blaine sighed. "Kurt, I know you don't like him but I keep telling you—"

"No, no it's not that." Kurt interrupted. "It's...well, I'm worried about him, I guess."

From the look on his face, it was obvious that Blaine hadn't expected that. "Since when?"

Kurt shrugged. "For a little while now... I've just put off saying anything because I don't actually _like _him a whole lot," Kurt said carefully. "But even if he's not my favourite person, I still don't like to see him coming home with bruises every week. Or worse, like today."

"Ah..." Blaine said, looking away.

Kurt furrowed his brow. "Yeah. I was wondering if you knew why it is I've been mistreated by a customer about four times in the last year, and Sam seems to get roughed up four times a month?" Blaine didn't say anything, and Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Blaine, tell me what's going on." He demanded.

Slowly, Blaine lifted his eyes up to meet Kurt's, a guilty expression on his face. "Listen, Kurt, the thing you need to understand about Sam is that he isn't... well... he isn't _you._"

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that right from the start, you have been _so good. _You're flirty, and charming and seductive and you know exactly what every customer wants to hear. Everything about you is high class, top dollar."

Kurt's eyes flashed. "And what, Sam _isn't?_" He demanded. A voice in his head told him to calm down, to not let Blaine see how upset he was over this—after all, he wasn't supposed to care about Sam. But he did, and it was difficult.

Blaine gave him a pleading look. "Kurt, come on, you've seen how Sam is with customers. He's quiet and sullen, he can barely force himself to make eye-contact... it's unprofessional." Blaine waited for Kurt to respond, but Kurt simply continued to glare at him, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. "In order to charge the same for Sam as I do for you... I have to make certain accommodations..."

Blaine looked at the ground, and Kurt took a moment to process what Blaine was saying. He struggled to keep his voice even as he spoke. "So... you _let _them be rough with him so you can _charge more?_" He asked, feeling his face turn red.

Blaine cringed, and Kurt attempted to remind himself that he loved Blaine, and should not jump forward and throttle him. No, no he should not.

God he wanted too though.

"Blaine, this is the most disgusting, immoral thing I have ever heard." He said instead. "Sam is a _person, _Blaine. A person who didn't _ask _for any of this and deserves your fucking respect—"

"I never said I didn't respect him!" Blaine protested.

"What you're _doing _says it for you!" Kurt shouted, unable to hold himself back any longer. "It's sickening, and it stops now."

"That's not your call, Kurt." Blaine said. "If people aren't allowed to use special treatment with Sam, then they'll never pay so much for him. Which means he'll have to work _more _jobs for less pay—it'll probably exhaust him just as much."

Kurt crossed his arms. "Blaine, we both know I make enough for the both of us. Sam coming in was just supposed to help relieve me a _little. _He can afford to work the same amount, and make a little less, alright?"

Blaine ground his teeth. "I'll see what I can do," He said reluctantly.

"Good," Kurt said, getting into bed as violently as he could. "And whatever customer he saw today, I don't want him seeing _ever _again. You should _see _what he did to him." He wrinkled his nose in disgust, with both the pervert who'd hurt Sam, and Blaine for letting it happen.

Blaine sighed. "Alright, fine." He mumbled, getting into bed as well. "For the record, I never said anyone could _abuse _him." Blaine said. "They were just allowed to be a little _rougher _than would usually be allowed."

"You're not helping yourself, Blaine." Kurt snapped, rolling over and facing away from him.

Blaine sighed again, and reached over and turned off the light.

* * *

Sam lay on his stomach, resting his head against the couch cushion as Kurt applied polysporin and bandages to the scrapes and bruises on his back. "You'll be pleased to know that these are healing nicely," Kurt said. He kept his tone light, not wanting Sam to know how upset looking at his wounds made him.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, putting his arms under his head. "Good. I'm gonna have to start working again soon, and I hate having to answer questions."

"Well, hopefully once these heal you won't be getting any new ones to replace them." Kurt said. He sighed, and shook his head. "I just can't believe so many people would be this awful to you."

Sam shrugged. "Not all my customers were bad," He said. "There's one guy—Dave— who's always nice to me... smells nice too."

Kurt smiled at his friend. "Well then him you can keep seeing, and the rest can all go to hell." He said. Finishing up with the bandages, Kurt brushed his fingers along Sam's back, and Sam shivered a bit and laughed.

"Don't do that, it tickles." Sam mumbled, swatting Kurt away.

"Oh, does it?" Kurt asked, a slightly evil grin spreading on his face. He moved his fingers closer to Sam's rib cage and ran his fingers over Sam's skin, causing Sam to jerk violently and let out another burst of laughter.

"Stop, Kurt I mean it!" Sam said, the weight of his words undermined by the laughter in his voice.

"Mmm, no I don't think I will," Kurt said, and began tickling Sam again, all over his chest and sides. Sam wriggled on the cough, laughing hysterically and trying to push Kurt away, but Kurt wouldn't let up.

"No, get away—" Sam cried, backing himself into a corner on the couch.

"Oh, you can do better than that, Sam." Kurt said, moving his tickling down to just above Sam's hips, causing Sam to double over. "Come Sammy, beg me to stop. Give it your all."

"_Please, _Kurt!_" _Sam pleaded, his blond hair falling into his eyes as his chin fell against his chest. "Please, I'll do anything, please oh god."

Kurt paused. "Alright, that was actually pretty good..."

Sam smiled at him. "Yeah, I know." He said, then sprung forward, knocking Kurt off the couch and pinning him to the floor, with his wrists above his head. "Practice makes perfect, right?" He said, grinning cheekily. Kurt just glared in response, displeased with this turn of events. "Now, let's see where _you're _ticklish," Sam said, sitting down on Kurt's pelvis and putting his hands under Kurt's shirt.

"I'm not ticklish," Kurt said, folding his arms across his chest as Sam checked for a sensitive spot on his body.

"Everyone's ticklish somewhere," Sam mumbled, poking his fingers into Kurt's underarms and receiving no reaction. "Hmm...feet maybe," He said, moving off Kurt and grabbing his foot.

"No no—!" Kurt protested, trying to take his foot back from Sam. Sam kept a firm hold around his ankle, and began removing his sock. "No I _hate _people touching my feet! Stop!"

"Hmm, no I don't think I will," Sam said, mocking him. Kurt tilted his head back and groaned, and then let out a loud squeal as Sam ran a finger along the bottom of his foot. He kicked out violently and managed to get his foot away from Sam, who scrambled back on top of him and once again pinned his wrists to the floor. In the struggle, Sam lost his balance and crashed down on top of Kurt, causing them both to wince in pain.

"Are you alright?" Kurt asked, ceasing his struggling. Sam nodded, and looked at him, and Kurt gulped, realizing how very _close _Sam was. He was lying on top of him, and almost every part of their bodies were touching... Sam's mouth was close enough that Kurt could feel his warm breath on his chin.

Their eyes were locked together as they both breathed shallowly, recovering from their "fight." Kurt realized he'd never really noticed how nice Sam's eyes were before. They were a beautiful colour, sort of a soft greenish blue... Kurt thought he might have been able to see flecks of gold in them as well.

Sam leaned in, and for a moment Kurt thought he was going to kiss him. But Sam just brushed his nose over Kurt's, nuzzling him softly.

Kurt had no idea why it made his heart ache so much.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Are you sure you don't need me to kill anyone for you?"

Sam smiled, and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of the large hands on his body for a moment longer before he answered. "I'm sure," He replied, nuzzling his cheek into the soft pillow he was resting against.

After Kurt had gone through a list of Sam's customers with him, and thoroughly questioned Sam on the way each one of them had treated him, Sam had been left with less than a handful of regulars. Dave Karofsky was one of the few that Kurt had permitted Blaine to keep for him.

Dave was only a few years older than Sam, but he was already co-president of a lucrative new construction company that was knocking down and rebuilding half of New York. Kurt would say he was a little big around the middle, but Sam didn't mind. Dave was gentle with him, always sweet and warm and Sam never minded sleeping with him. After dealing with some of his other customers, there'd even been times when he found himself looking forward to Dave.

Dave had always gotten a little worked up over his bruises, asking him in increasingly worried tones if he was alright, if he needed help. Sam had always assured him he was fine, it was all fine... but this time, Dave hadn't bought it.

"Really," Dave said. He was trying to keep his voice light, his tone humorous, but Sam could tell there was an edge to his words. He was upset, Sam knew that. "I can get a ton of different tools from the construction site. Wrenches, hammers, pliers, drills—blowtorch. At the very least we can take off a few toes."

Sam laughed, and shook his head. Somehow just knowing he had people willing to mutilate Katz for him made him feel better. "Really, Dave," He said. "It's taken care of."

Dave sighed, still running his hands over Sam's back. "I worry about you, Sam," He said quietly. "You know I do."

Sam smiled, and rolled over onto his back. He put a hand on Dave's face. "I know," He said. He reached up and kissed Dave lightly on the mouth.

Dave's fingers found their way into his hair, and soon the light kisses had turned hard and deep. Sam didn't think that had enough time left in their hour to fuck again, because they'd spent so much time cuddling and stuff. But he didn't stop kissing Dave, because it felt nice and Dave seemed like he needed to be kissed.

"Sam," Dave said, pulling back suddenly. He gave him a serious look and put his hand on Sam's face. "If... if you ever wanted to get out... I'd do whatever I could, to help you. I want you to know that."

Sam blinked a few times, shocked. "What?" He asked. Dave just looked at him. "Whaddya mean 'get out?'"

"You know what I mean," Dave said, sitting up in the bed. "Get out, away from Blaine and his whole operation, start over. If you wanted to, I'd just... I'd be there to help, is all."

Sam sat up too, and lifted up his knees under the covers. He rested his forearms on them, and turned Dave's words over in his head. "I... I have thought about it," Sam said quietly. He snorted. "Alright I think about it all the time."

"So do it," Dave said.

Sam shook his head. "I can't. I mean, first off I don't have anywhere to go," He said, smiling bitterly. "My parents don't want me, and trying to live on my own is what got me into this mess in the first place." He shook his head. "And even if I did... I could never leave without Kurt. And there's no way he'd walk out on Blaine."

* * *

Kurt flipped through the magazine, staring at the glossy pages and the glossy people. Famous lived glamourous lives and travelled the world, performed in movies, plays, television shows. They had record deals and fashion contracts... they were beautiful.

Kurt found his fingers clenching around the edge of the page as he thought about how, barely two years ago, it had been his biggest dream to be one of them. Glamourous, successful, beautiful... special.

A star. He'd wanted so badly to be a star when he'd come to New York, he remembered. A big, big star.

And what was he now?

"Hello, beautiful," Blaine mumbled, coming up behind the couch Kurt was sitting on. He wrapped his arms over Kurt's shoulders and kissed his neck. "What are you up to?"

Kurt frowned, and stared hard at an ad featuring a handsome male celebrity selling some cologne. "I'm still mad at you," Kurt said stiffly. He felt Blaine tense. "Go think about what you did and be sad some more."

Blaine grunted and withdrew, coming around to the other side of the couch. He sat down on the coffee table in front of it, and looked at Kurt with a set jaw. "It's been two weeks Kurt," Blaine all but growled. "When the hell are you going to forgive me?"

Anger boiled in Kurt's gut, and he ground his teeth a little. _It's been two weeks. _He didn't understand how Blaine could be so flippant about this. Sure, it had been two weeks since Sam had stumbled home with belt marks covering his body, scratches all over his back and bites on his shoulders. Two weeks since Kurt had spent hours running his fingers through Sam's hair while Sam stared lifelessly off at the wall with red eyes and black, dilated pupils. Later Sam had told him he'd stayed like that all night, staring at the wall, unable to sleep. And the next night after that. That was when he'd told Kurt about the drugs he'd been forced to take.

But it had been 14 whole days afterall, so Blaine expected to be forgiven.

Kurt took a moment before he answered to breath in through his nose. Then he calmly replied "When Sam's bruises all heal,"

"When Sam's—god dammit, Kurt you _hate _Sam!" Blaine shouted. "Why the fuck do you care so much?"

Kurt lifted his eyes up a little and gave Blaine a cool glare. "It's the principle of the matter,"

Blaine dropped his head, exasperated. Kurt heard him take a deep breath, and when he lifted his head back up the angry look was gone from his face. He looked like the calm, sweet boyfriend Kurt loved. "Alright, I messed up." He said quietly. Kurt wanted to roll up the magazine in his hand and smack him with it. Instead he just raised his eyebrow at Blaine. "Alright I messed up _a lot,_" Kurt inclined his head in agreement. "But I'm fixing it. I've got a customer lined up for Sam tomorrow, and I promise he'll be upstanding."

Kurt raised his brows. "He will?" Blaine nodded. "_How _upstanding?"

"A perfect gentleman," Blaine promised. "And the money's great too. His name's Luc, he's come over from Toulouse on business."

Kurt's eyes lit up. "He's French? From _France?_" Kurt asked. Blaine smiled and nodded. "Does he have an accent?"

"A light one," Blaine said. "But he speaks English almost as well as he does French. He does a lot of business here."

"Do you think he's been to Paris? Do you think he's been to the Palace of Versaille? Oh!" Kurt jumped up a little, in his excitement temporarily forgetting his anger. "Do you think he's been to the _Musée Galliera_? Do you think I'll get to meet him for a little so I can ask? I don't have any customers tomorrow—"

Blaine laughed a little. "Oh, you'll definitely be able to meet him." He said.

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, see he's not just paying for _Sam _tomorrow," Blaine said. "He's paying for you both. Together."

* * *

_"Together?"_

Kurt nodded. He was lying on Sam's bed, and Sam was standing in front of him with his mouth hanging open. He'd been in a good mood when he'd come back from Dave's, and Kurt had been hoping he'd take this better than he was.

"Like, together together?" Sam asked, starting to pace. "Like at the same time together?"

"I believe the phrase is _menage a trois,_" Kurt replied. "Please don't pace—"

Sam shook his head. "Pacing is necessary," He mumbled. He stopped anyways, and looked at Kurt.  
"How are we going to do this?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "Well, Sam, that's a good question. I think a better one is how have _you_ been getting a long this whole time if you don't know how to do it?"

Sam sighed and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "That's not what I meant. I mean how are _we _going to do this?" He asked, putting his hand over Kurt's. "You and me. That's not just fucking some random guy for money, that'll be us... y'know..."

Kurt sighed too, and nodded. "I know," He said quietly.

They were quiet for a moment, and Kurt felt Sam's hand tighten around his. "Things weren't supposed to work out this way," He mumbled. "Not at all."

"But they did, Sam," Kurt said. "This is the way things are, and we just need to deal with it."

"But we don't," Sam said, turning his head sharply and looking at Kurt. "We don't have to."

A lump formed in Kurt's throat, and he furrowed his brow. "Yes, we do." Kurt said firmly. He pulled his hand back from Sam's and sat up. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, alright. Tomorrow just... just let me take the lead. I'll tell you what to do. It'll be alright."

Kurt stood up and walked out of the room. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Sam sigh again.

Alone in the bedroom, Sam looked down at the floor with blank eyes. "No, it won't." He whispered to himself. There was silence for a moment, and on the other side of the door he heard Kurt's footsteps begin to walk away.

* * *

**A/N: _Musée Galliera = _Paris Fashion Museum**

**Also Save gurgle gurgle. I love Save. Save's the best. gurgle. **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Sam was a nervous wreck the next day. He wasn't pacing or shaking or repeatedly running his fingers through his hair like he usually did when he was nervous, but Kurt could tell he was anyways.

He was sitting on the couch, right on the edge of his seat, with his fore arms resting on his thighs. His hands were clenched up into fists, and he was squeezing so hard there was probably going to be nail marks in his palms for the next hour.

"Sam, it's okay," Kurt said, kneeling down in front of him. He took Sam's hands and held them. "It's just us, alright? Just us and a customer. No big. We can do this."

Sam nodded. "Right..." He mumbled, avoiding Kurt's eyes. Kurt sighed, and for lack of anything else to do, began straightening the collar on Sam's shirt and checking him for any imperfections. Because the customer was paying so much, Kurt had spent double the amount of time getting ready for him, making sure both he and Sam looked their best.

Kurt looked Sam over, and put a hand lightly against his friend's face. Kurt had done his job well—there wasn't a blemish or speck of dirt to be seen—but it was more than that. "You're beautiful, do you know that?" Kurt asked quietly.

Sam looked up at him, and furrowed his brow. They both knew he didn't.

There was a knock at the door, and Kurt stood up and turned around. "Guess that's him," He said. Sam stood up as well, and when Kurt took a step towards the door Sam reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Wait," Sam said, and he pulled Kurt back towards him. Kurt inhaled a sharply as Sam leaned in and kissed him, bringing a hand up and lightly cupping Kurt's chin. Kurt's lips parted a little, and he didn't bother to try and hold back the low sigh that escaped them. They both knew how much they wanted this, there was no point in pretending otherwise.

When Sam pulled away, he kept his hand on Kurt's face and brushed a thumb over his cheek. "I just wanted the first one to be just for us," he murmured.

Kurt looked at his friend for a moment, and then he pulled Sam back for another kiss. He kissed him as hard as he could, because these few kisses were all they would be allowed. After this they'd have to let a stranger in, and it wouldn't be the same. Everything would just be part of the act, a put on show for their customers benefit. So for just a few seconds, Kurt wanted to get lost in something that was real, and he told himself that would be enough.

But of course it wasn't. They pulled apart again and looked at each other, wide green-blue eyes staring mournfully into almost frightened grey ones. Kurt knew San was thinking the same thing. It wasn't enough, it never would be.

There was another knock at the door, and without a word Kurt turned and opened it. By the time the door swung back to reveal their customer standing in the hall, Kurt was ready. Or he at least appeared to be. "Hello there," Kurt greeted, looking the lucrative Luc Beaubier over with a seductive smile on his face.

Kurt hadn't realized he'd be so young. When Blaine had told him about him, he'd been expecting a stiff business man type, in his early 40's. This man couldn't have been much older than him and Sam. He had wavy, light brown hair that fell over one of his bright green eyes, and there was a thin layer of stubble over his cut jaw. He looked more like a french model than a business man.

Luc grinned back at him. "Hello," He said.

Kurt stepped back to let him in, and then closed the door behind him. "I'm Kurt, and this is Sam," Kurt said, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam reached over and shook Luc's hand, and Luc looked him over with an approving grin on his face. "It is very nice to meet you," Luc said. There was the faintest touch of an accent when he spoke, but his english so far was excellent. Kurt idly wondered which language he'd speak during sex. He hoped it was French.

Sam smiled and nodded, but said nothing. Something about this made Luc smile even wider. "Blaine told me you're not very chatty," He said. Sam looked surprised. "That's alright, I am not here to chat."

Kurt smiled at Luc, and slid an arm around his waist. "I can be chatty sometimes," He said, leaning in close to Luc's ear. "But I find I do my best talking in the bed room, if you'd like to see it."

Luc licked his lips. "That's funny, because the bedroom is where I find I am stupidest." Sam laughed, and Luc gave him a wide smile. He took a step closer, and leaned in to whisper in Sam's ear. Kurt faintly heard the words_ "J'aime votre rire." _Even though Kurt knew Sam didn't speak a word of french, a faint blush appeared on his cheeks.

Luc pulled back, and his eyes flickered over Sam's face. "I would like to see the bedroom," He added softly.

"It's right through there," Kurt said, pointing down the hall. "We'll be with you in a moment."

Luc nodded, and turned to go before he seemed to remember something, and turned back. _"Pour vous," _He said, taking a folded white envelope from his pocket and handing it to Kurt. Kurt smiled, and Luc turned and left the room.

"What did he say?" Sam asked, grabbing Kurt's elbow. "Was it bad or gross or something? If it was, don't tell me. Was it?"

Kurt laughed, and opened up the envelope, running his fingers over the 50 dollar bills inside. "Oh damn," He said.

"_Ku-urt!" _Sam whined, shaking him.

Kurt snapped himself out of it, and put the money down on the counter. "He said he loved your laugh,"

Sam's cheeks turned red again. "Oh," He said quietly, trying to hide a shy smile. "That's nice..."

Kurt smiled. "I think he likes you," He said. Sam shrugged. "Finally, someone has good taste."

Sam grinned at him, and then leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. He walked off down the hall, to meet Luc in the bedroom, and Kurt followed.

Luc was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for them. He smiled when they walked in. "Everything is good?"

Kurt took a step towards him, and put a finger on Luc's chest. "Oh, very good," He said, moving his finger to pop open the top button of his shirt. To his surprise, Luc put a hand over his, stopping him.

"Eh, um... I do that myself," Luc said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "It is an... eccentricity of mine, I suppose." He smiled apologetically.

"Oh," Kurt said. He took a step back. "Alright."

"You two can do each other," Luc said, beginning to unbutton his own shirt. Kurt raised his eyebrows at him, and Luc laughed. "_Undress _each other, I meant. Although, the alternative would not be so bad, either." He grinned.

Kurt smiled back, and turned to Sam, who looked very much like he wanted to bolt. Kurt rubbed Sam's shoulder lightly, and stepped in close. "It's okay," He whispered, pressing his lips right against Sam's ear so Luc couldn't hear. "It's just us, don't be nervous,"

Sam swallowed, and then put both of his hands on the side of Kurt's face and pulled him in for a kiss. Kurt kissed him back, and let his hands drift down to Sam's shirt to work open the buttons.

Sam took his hands away from Kurt's face and began to tug at Kurt's clothes, kissing him harder and faster. Kurt pushed Sam's shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then grabbed at Sam's hips and pulled him close. He ran his fingers along the curve of Sam's back, imagining how nice it would be to follow that line with his mouth. Imagining the sounds Sam would make...

Sam's fingers were in his hair, and his mouth was pressed against his, and it felt _so right. _It shouldn't have felt so good and right, to be kissing his friend like this, to _want _his friend so badly. Not just want him because he was beautiful, or because his mouth was warm and soft, but want _all of him. _He didn't just want him now, in bed, he wanted him always, in every way.

Kurt didn't even notice he'd gotten lost again. The same way he'd gotten lost before, when he kissed Sam the rest of it just slipped away... Luc, having to perform and please... everything. It all slipped away, and Kurt found himself pulled into some other world by the taste of Sam's lips and tongue and the feel of his hands.

Sam kissed along his jaw and Kurt shut his eyes, grasping at Sam's hair._"Sam,"_ He moaned. Sam's lips travelled down his neck, kissing and sucking on his skin as Sam fumbled with pulling Kurt's shirt out from the waist of his jeans.

Sam lifted his head up away from Kurt's neck and looked at him, then took a small step back. Kurt couldn't understand why, why would he move away... then he remembered. _Luc. _They weren't alone.

Kurt swallowed and glanced at their customer on the bed. Luc seemed to have froze a little, his hands paused halfway through unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide and blown. "You two... uh..." He looked away, shaking himself a little. "You look very nice together," He said.

Kurt smiled, and forced himself to get into character. He couldn't keep getting distracted like that, it was unprofessional. "We'll look even better on you," He purred, taking a seat next to Luc on the bed. Luc smiled, and went back to undoing the buttons on his shirt, a little more hurriedly now.

Kurt motioned for Sam to come towards him. They'd managed to get both of their shirts off already, and now Kurt began doing the buttons on Sam's pants and taking them off. He forced himself to look at Luc, and think about Luc, and not Sam.

Luc looked up at Sam, and Kurt knew those lust-blown eyes were almost entirely for him. Alright, so Luc could focus on Sam, and Kurt would focus on Luc, and not Sam. Not Sam. That would keep him from getting distracted again. Behaving... unprofessionally.

He wouldn't think about Sam. Not Sam, and not Sam's mouth and his beautiful, adorable smile. Not Sam's hands, and the way they felt _so good _on his body. Not Sam, not any part of him.

Kurt hated that'd they'd waited so long for this. Why had they waited? Why had they waited until they were forced to be together like _this, _with someone else watching... someone else _participating. _He didn't want Luc, he only wanted Sam and Sam alone.

The thought of Blaine was in the back of his mind, the reason that they'd waited like they had. Kurt's boyfriend, the supposed love of his life.

Right now he hated him. More than he thought it would have been possible. For putting him in this position, for bring Sam into his life when he couldn't have him. When he had to share him. He hated Blaine for punishing him like this—and this _was _intended to be a punishment, he was sure. For telling Blaine what to do, telling him what customers Sam could or couldn't see. For acting out of line.

The irony was that punishment was so much worse than Blaine had intended. Blaine'd no idea how much this would hurt, because he had no idea of his real feelings for Sam. He thought they hated each other. _That _was the punishment, that they would have to sleep together when they couldn't even stand to be in the same room (so Blaine thought). But it was so much worse this way.

Luc had removed his shirt and tossed it aside, and now he lightly brushed Kurt's hand away from Sam's jeans, so he could finish the rest himself. Luc pushed Sam's jeans down past his hips, and then pressed his lips to Sam's navel.

Kurt looked away. He kissed Luc's shoulder, and his neck, and tried to block out the small whimpers he could hear Sam making.

* * *

Sam lay asleep on the bed, his mouth open slightly and red from kissing. Kurt looked fondly at him, trying to get dressed as quietly as possible. Next to him, Luc was doing the same.

Once they were both fully clothed—or mostly, in Kurt's case, as he didn't bother to do his shirt back up the whole way or put on his socks—they crept quietly out of the room, and Kurt shut the door behind them.

"Are you sure you have to leave right away?" Kurt asked, as he showed Luc to the door. He felt a bit more relaxed now, more clear headed, and Luc had paid so much money, somehow Kurt felt like he was ripping him off.

Luc nodded. "I have a meeting in an hour," He said, making a face. "Trust me, if I could stay, I would." He said.

Kurt forced a smile. It was obvious that Sam was entirely responsible for that. Luc hadn't taken his eyes—or hands, or mouth—off of him the entire time. And part of him was happy about that, happy that someone _finally _seemed to appreciate Sam... but it still hurt.

"Well, thank you," Kurt said, then immediately furrowed his brow. _Thank you? _Had he really just thanked a customer? Luc gave him a curious look, recognizing the oddity of the statement as well. Kurt felt his face turn red. "I mean, just... for being good to Sam. Not a lot of people are, and he just.. I mean he just deserves so much better than that, you know?"

Luc nodded, and looked him over for a minute. "You two are lovers, yes?" He asked quietly.

Kurt blinked, taken aback. "Oh, no..." He said. "Sam and I just... I mean, we're only friends. That's all."

"Mmm-hmm," Luc said, not seeming to believe him at all. "I think if all my friends looked at me at the way you and Sam do each other, I might make an effort to call them more often."

Kurt's cheeks burned, and he looked away. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Luc," He said, opening the front door. "I hope to see you again,"

Luc smiled at him, and stepped towards the door. "The pleasure was all mine," He said, leaning in and placing a small kiss on Kurt's ear lobe. "Please tell your friend Sam that, if you will," He said, his mouth still next to Kurt's ear.

Kurt nodded, and with another coy smile, Luc left. Kurt closed the door, and then leaned back against it. He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath. Kurt couldn't explain it, but he was suddenly feeling very nervous.

When he went back to the bedroom, Sam was awake and staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey..." Kurt said, walking over to the side of the bed where Sam was lying. He trailed his fingers over the bed sheets tangled around Sam's knees, unsure what to say. _So we just sort of had sex, I guess. Funny, huh? Want to go watch X-Men? _

"It shouldn't have been like that," Sam said quietly. He stared at the ceiling for a moment longer, then turned his head and looked at Kurt.

Kurt's brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you and me," Sam said, sitting up in the bed. "Being together, for the first time... it shouldn't have been like that. With someone else," Sam sounded sad.

A lump formed in Kurt's throat, and he swallowed. He wanted to say that he hadn't minded, that Luc had been alright—more than alright, even. Luc had been charming and attractive and sweet... the perfect customer.

Kurt remained quiet. He knew that Luc wasn't the point. Sam was right. It shouldn't have been like that.

Kurt looked down, surprised, as Sam reached for his hand. Their fingers entwined, and Kurt opened his mouth, with the intention of saying... something...

But then Sam pulled him in and kissed him, and he forgot what it was.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

When Kurt woke up, he was in Sam's arms. And heaven, potentially.

He must have been asleep for a while, because between the curtains he could see the sky growing dark. It wasn't night yet—the sky was the deep, swirling purple and blue of a late sunset, orange and pink in parts where the sun was still present—but it was growing close.

"You're awake,"

Kurt tilted his chin up to look at Sam, and smiled. "No," He replied, closing his eyes again. "Still dreaming."

Kurt heard Sam laugh softly, and then felt himself shifted to the side as Sam leaned in to kiss him. Kurt breathed in deeply, and slide his fingers up into Sam's sleep-mussed hair. It really did feel like a dream. This wasn't his life, it couldn't be. It was too... calm. Serene.

Happy.

Kurt opened his eyes, and pulled away from Sam. He felt happy. It felt... strange. He'd forgotten what it felt like, to be happy and safe in the arms of someone he loved.

Sam brushed a finger gently along his cheekbone. He whispered his name, and leaned in for another kiss. Kurt turned his face away. "Don't," He muttered, pulling the covers up around himself. This wasn't his life, it was some dream from another life he might have had but never would. A dream; his, but not real. He couldn't let himself, or Sam, forget that.

"Come on," Kurt said, forcing himself to rise from the bed. "We have to get up,"

"No, we don't," Sam put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, and tugged him back down. Kurt glared at him. Didn't Sam understand that this was difficult enough without having to argue with him?

"Yes, we _do,_" Kurt insisted, shrugging Sam's hand off and standing up. Sam looked at him for a moment, and then got up as well.

They dressed in silence. When Kurt was finished, he looked up and found Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a strange look on his face. Kurt's chest tightened; he knew that look. That hard, serious look he had when he was thinking about things Kurt couldn't, _wouldn't _think about. Kurt was seeing it more and more lately, and it terrified him.

"Kurt," Sam said, turning his head a little to look at him. "I'm leaving,"

Kurt blinked a few times, and his mouth opened. Whatever he'd expected Sam to say to him then, it hadn't been that, no matter the look on his face. "What—"

"I'm _leaving,_" Sam repeated, getting off the bed to stand in front of Kurt. The strength in his voice and the strange light in his eyes dispelled any notions Kurt'd had that Sam was just talking about going to the grocery store. A shiver ran through him as Sam reached down and took his hand. "And you're coming with me."

For a second, Kurt almost laughed. Because _that _had to be a joke, of course. Kurt couldn't _leave, _that was just—ridiculous. Sam couldn't be serious.

Except he was.

Unable to form an answer, Kurt just shook his head violently, trying to back away from Sam.

"Yes," Sam countered, stepping forward and squeezing his hand. "Yes—stop shaking your head, yes you're coming—"

"_No," _Kurt finally managed, wrenching his hand back from Sam.

Sam grabbed Kurt shoulders and held them firmly. _"Yes, _Kurt. _Yes," _He said again, looking him square in the eye. Kurt didn't say anything. "Kurt, please," Sam's eyes were wide, and his voice soft and pleading. "I can't do this anymore. I can't... but I can't go without you, either. Please, come with me. Let's get out of here, get away, together."

Kurt shut his eyes, afraid of what he'd say if he kept looking at Sam. "I can't, Sam," He said. It was easier to find words without Sam's face in front of him. "I can't leave Blaine..."

Sam shook him a little, and Kurt opened his eyes. "Yes you can," Sam said. He sounded angry.

"_No, _I can't,_" _

"_Yes you can!" _

"_No I can't!" _Kurt put his hands on Sam's chest and shoved him away. This was a stupid conversation, and he wouldn't have it anymore. He wasn't going to leave Blaine, and his life and everything behind just because Sam asked him too. He couldn't.

"Why not?" Sam shouted, his face flushed red.

"Because—because he's my _boyfriend _and I _love _him!"

Sam scoffed. "Kurt he's not your _boyfriend _he's your _pimp,_"

Kurt felt like he'd been slapped. "N-no..."

Sam stepped up again and put his hands back on Kurt's shoulders. "Yes, he is," Sam said. His tone was gentler again, and for some reason it made Kurt feel like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry, Kurt, but it's the truth. And you _know _it, you just want to pretend you don't." Kurt shook his head, feeling the tears begin to well up in his eyes. "Kurt... what did Blaine tell you, when I moved in here?"

Kurt's brow furrowed. "What?"

"When I first came here, what did Blaine tell you about who I was and what I was doing here?" Sam said. "I mean, he must have told you right off the bat that he was going to start prostituting me, right? But not right away?"

Kurt glanced down, feeling guilty. "Yeah... he... he told me he brought you in to help me, so I wouldn't have to work as hard," He said quietly. "But... he wanted to wait a little, before you started working... so we had to pretend we weren't seeing each other..."

"And you were okay with that?" Sam pressed.

Kurt had the feeling Sam was getting at something, leading up to making some point, but he couldn't tell what it was. "No... well, he told me..." He bit his lip, and forced himself to look at Sam. "He promised that he loved me, and only me... and you weren't anything."

Sam nodded. He didn't look hurt. "Kurt," He said quietly. "He told me the same thing about you."

Kurt blinked. "W-what—"

"When he got back together with you, after I started working. He told me that he had to _pretend _to be with you for a while, because you get insecure and lonely." Sam said. "But he promised me that _I _was the one he really loved, not you. He said you were nothing."

Kurt felt sick. That couldn't be true, Blaine would never say that. _"_You're lying,_" _Kurt said, his voice barely more than a squeak. "He loves me, he wouldn't—he _wouldn't—_"

"He doesn't," Sam said firmly. "He doesn't love anyone, or anything except himself. He _used _you, Kurt. He used us both. We _need _to get away from him. Please, I can't do this anymore."

Kurt shook his head. "I—I'm scared," He whispered. He didn't want to believe any of what Sam was saying, but somehow there was a part of him that already did. A part that knew it was true.

Kurt felt like was about to pass out.

Sam pulled him into his arms, and kissed his temple. "So am I," Sam said, stroking Kurt's hair. Kurt let himself hold onto Sam, afraid his knees would no longer support him. "But we _have _to get out, Kurt, I know we do. This isn't how things are supposed to be. You were supposed to be a star, remember?"

Tears streamed down Kurt's cheeks, and he let himself sob into Sam's shoulder. Sam was right, none of this was what he'd wanted. Sleeping with men for money, sharing his supposed boyfriend with others... forcing himself to be someone else just so he didn't go crazy from the things he had to do. It was horrible, it was all horrible and he was so miserable. He hated himself, and he hated his life and what he'd become. He was supposed to be in school, learning how to be the best of the best and on the road to becoming a star. A big, big star.

Kurt closed his eyes and waited for his shoulders to stop shaking. When he opened them again, his tears had stopped. He looked at Sam, and tried to keep the quiver out of his voice as he spoke. "What do we do?" He asked.

Sam's eyes went wide, as though he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Are you serious?" He asked. Kurt swallowed, still feeling a bit ill. There was a voice in his head—and Kurt couldn't tell if it was his own—shouting _no! _No he wasn't serious, no he couldn't run away with Sam—no no no, he couldn't do _any _of that, the voice insisted. You love Blaine, remember? the voice tried to reason with him. How could you leave him?

Kurt did his best to ignore it. It was hard, because he knew in a way the voice was right. He _did _still love Blaine, in a way. But... he also knew that in another way... he hadn't loved Blaine for a long time. If he really thought about it, he thought he might've even hated him, too.

Kurt looked at Sam, and nodded. "I'm serious," He said, shakier than he might have liked. "Do you have a plan?"

Sam pursed his lips. "You mean beyond 'leave?'"

Kurt sighed. "Yeah, beyond that." He said. "We have to find some place to go, first of all... and money, so we can get there, and-and—"

"Oh, _wait,_" Sam broke in, snapping his fingers like he'd gotten an idea. He bolted out of the room, and when he came back a minute later he had a white envelope in his hand. It was the one Luc had given them a few hours ago. "There, money."

Kurt nodded, feeling a bit nasous. "Well... well that's one thing, then," He said slowly.

Sam smiled at him for a second, but then quickly frowned down at the envelope. "This doesn't seem like much," He said.

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding?" He'd counted the money before, he knew how much was in there. More than his and Sam's usual salary combined.

Sam shook his head. "Not as much as we've _earned,_" He said.

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Sam wasn't just talking about what they'd earned with _Luc. _He was talking about _everything _they'd earned.

"Where does Blaine keep the money?" Sam asked, his eyes flashing dangerously. _"Our _money,_"_

* * *

Kurt paced around the room, nibbling at his finger nails while Sam examined the small safe hidden at the back of Blaine's closet. The safe that Kurt knew about because Blaine _trusted _him. And now here he was, plotting to break into it and rob him blind, then abandon him without a word.

"Maybe we could try to pick it..." Sam muttered, holding the heavy pad lock in his hand. "You don't know anything about picking locks, do you?"

Kurt looked at him. "What do you _think?_" He asked, his voice several octaves higher than usual. He shook his head, still pacing. "I can't believe we're doing this... we _can't _do this... we can't..."

"Yes, we can," Sam said, standing up and going over to Kurt. He put his hands on his shoulders, and looked him in the eye. "Kurt, that money in there... who had to have sex in order to get it?"

"We did..." Kurt said quietly.

"So who does the money _really _belong to?"

Kurt's face crumpled. "But Blaine—"

"Lied. And manipulated. And sold us. Sold _you._" Kurt looked away, and Sam put a hand on his face. "Please Kurt, I need you to see that. I don't want to be someone else that forces you into things you don't want to do, but I _need _you to see Blaine for what he really is. I know it's hard, I know you love him... I just need you to believe me."

Kurt sniffed, and shut his eyes. "I do, Sam," He said. "I believe you... I... I know what Blaine is, what he did..." He opened his eyes and looked miserably at Sam. "I think I've known it for a while," He whispered. "I just didn't want to. I just... I wanted everything to be ok, and good... but it's not." He shook his head again, and wiped at his eyes. They were stinging, but he was determined not to cry again. He looked at Sam. "And it won't be okay until we get out of here."

Sam nodded. He brushed a finger gently over Kurt's cheek and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, lightly, as though he was unsure about whether or not he was allowed. Kurt wanted to kiss him back, wanted a full kiss where he could wrap his arms around Sam and disappear into him, but it didn't feel like the time. Sam pulled back and looked at him for a moment, and he knew Sam felt it too. This wasn't the time for that, not now.

Without a word, they both went back over to the safe and crouched down in front of it. Kurt picked up the lock, and gave it a hard look. It was heavy in his hand, thick and intimidating. "There's no way we can pick this," He said. "Especially considering neither of us know anything about picking locks."

Sam frowned. "Maybe break it?"

"Does this look breakable to you?" He asked, rattling the lock around.

Sam shook his head. "No, not unless we had some kind of tool..." Sam's eyes lit up and he grabbed Kurt's hand. "_I can get us tools!_" He said. He stood up and darted out of the room, once again leaving Kurt staring after him in confusion.

"Where can you get tools from?" Kurt asked, following Sam out of Blaine's room and back into Sam's own. He found Sam digging through the drawer of stuff in his night table. "Sam?"

"Remember my good customer? Dave?" Sam asked, rifling through his drawer. "He owns a construction business. He can get us tools, he—aha!" Sam triumphantly held up a piece of paper with a number written on it. "Where's the phone?"

"In the living room—Sam, _wait!_" Kurt said, grabbing Sam's arm as he made to leave the room again. "Sam, think. We don't have _time _for that. Blaine could be home any minute. If you want to go we should go now. Forget the money."

Sam blinked. "Oh... crap, you're right," He said. He sat down on the edge of his bed. "We'll never have enough time... not to do things properly..." He looked up at Kurt. "We'll have to leave tomorrow."

Kurt's mouth fell open. "Wah—no!" He yelped. "We can't—I can't! Not if I have to _see _Blaine and-and—"

Sam stood up, and took Kurt's hands in his. "Kurt, calm down," He said. "You can do this, I know you can. This is your thing, remember? You can make anyone believe anything you want to." Kurt didn't say anything, and Sam continued. "Blaine's gonna come home today, and you're gonna tell him all about how great Luc is, and how sexy his accent is and how you need to go to France one day, and he won't suspect anything because you're an amazing actor, Kurt. And one day that's gonna make you famous, but to get there first it has to get us out of here, alright?"

Kurt nodded slowly, looking down at his hands in Sam's. Sam was right, he could do this. This could be... his greatest acting challenge yet. The final hurdle he had to over come to get to his happily ever after. "Alright," He said. "Call Dave."

Sam retrieved the phone from the living room, and dialled the number off the piece of paper. Kurt watched him, letting his eyes drift over Sam's chest, where only a few hours ago he'd been lying so contentedly, and up to Sam's mouth, that he still wanted to kiss, so badly.

Not now... now wasn't the time.

There would be time for that later.


End file.
